


We Forgot to Break Up

by JinxQuickfoot



Series: Whumptoberverse [18]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Arguments, Awesome Pepper Potts, Awesome Sharon Carter (Marvel), Buried Alive, But they kind of get treated like a divorced couple in this, Day 18, Demisexual Steve Rogers, Demisexuality, F/M, Gen, Hurt Steve Rogers, Hurt Tony Stark, Missions Gone Wrong, Not Canon Compliant, Not stony, Panic Attacks, Post-Civil War (Marvel), Protective Steve Rogers, Queer Character, Queer Tony Stark, SHIELD Director Maria Hill, Steve Rogers & Tony Stark Friendship, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 22:43:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29798991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JinxQuickfoot/pseuds/JinxQuickfoot
Summary: “Rogers, I got it justtrust me."One.Steve reacted, snatching up the shield and throwing himself across Tony’s body as the bomb detonated and the building came down around them.--------------------------------------Figures that only when Tony's jaw is wired shut that he and Steve can finally talk about Siberia.
Relationships: Pepper Potts & Steve Rogers, Sharon Carter & Steve Rogers, Sharon Carter/Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers & Tony Stark
Series: Whumptoberverse [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1921831
Comments: 56
Kudos: 60
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Whumptober 2020 Day 18
> 
> Prompts: Paranoia/Panic Attacks
> 
> Relationship Steve & Tony
> 
> Thank you 3000 to [usa123](https://archiveofourown.org/users/usa123/pseuds/usa123) for letting me play with the premise from this [Febuwhump prompt](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29149206/chapters/71979831) (also go check out this whole series it's amazing!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TWs for this chapter: Buried alive, claustrophobia, small spaces, panic attacks

**New York, November 6th, 2012**

“Stark, report.”

Steve adjusted his fireman’s hold on the woman thrown over his shoulder, bracing her head as he jumped down the final flight of stairs before handing her off to the waiting EMTs at the building’s exit.

“That's last of them. Stark?"

_“Little busy here, honey.”_

The voice on the comms was just loud enough for the group of EMTs to hear, the closest throwing him curious looks as they packed the rest of the gassed bank staff into ambulances. Great. Because the team needed more fuel to _those_ rumors.

Months after the Battle of New York they were still a mess, and the media never let them forget it. Certain news outlets seemed to have it out for them more than others, throwing out accusations that the Avengers should mind their own business, that they weren’t doing enough, that they were responsible for causing damage when they fought, and for not preventing damage when they didn’t. More than once the headlines had called for them to be reigned in, to be put under the control of the government or the C.I.A. or the F.B.I. but, thankfully, their associations with S.H.I.E.L.D. seemed enough to prevent leashing - at least for now.

Steve didn’t like to think about what would happen if the powers that be really tried to push for Avengers oversight. After the serum, he’d done all he could to keep Erskine’s work out of the hands of anyone who might exploit it, including agreeing to be a touring monkey and playing dress up for the masses. (Both Clint and Tony liked to blast the Captain America theme song at him whenever he least expected it, and he guessed they would keep doing it until he stopped cringing. Which would probably be never.)

If it really came down to it, Steve reckoned that they could probably fight against that kind of legislation if they rallied together. Bruce was even more paranoid at keeping his enhancements out of government hands than Steve was, and Thor wasn’t even an earth citizen, so Steve had no idea how government jurisdiction would even apply to the alien. He had picked up enough context that, post-Loki and Coulson’s death, S.H.I.E.L.D. was no longer a friendly place for Clint, so Steve couldn’t see the archer signing up for a new round of superiors any time soon. Natasha…he guessed Natasha could go either way, used to twisting any situation to her advantage, no matter the odds. And as for Tony…

Well. Steve had seen the footage from the 2008 court hearing of the higher-ups trying to get Tony to hand over his suits to the army. The man had made it clear that nothing less than a global catastrophe would have him working with government overlords any time soon. With Tony’s money, resources, and sway over the press, Steve reckoned the team would stay as safe as they could be.

Tony still felt like a puzzle which Steve was missing most of the pieces to. He thought they had found some kind of acquiescence after the Battle of New York - that they had both agreed their first impressions of the other had been wrong - only for Tony to snap into verbal combat mode everytime Steve was in the room.

It would have been enough to make Steve thoroughly dislike the man if he hadn’t realized that Tony’s attitude was only aimed at _him._ He was gentle with Pepper, joked around with Rhodey, listened to Bruce. And other than a general wariness around Natasha in the early days of sharing the Tower, Tony seemed to get on with the rest of the team just fine.

Then Steve would get near him, and the defenses would go up, and Steve had yet to dismantle _why._ Sure, their first encounter hadn’t been ideal, but then they’d fought together, almost died together and Steve had thought -

_We are not soldiers._

Right. Maybe Steve was just programmed a different way from the military. Someone had your back in a fight - that was an unquestionable bond. But Stark was famous for not being a team-player, one of the reasons Natasha’s assessment had rejected him from the Avengers Initiative in the first place, so maybe he saw things differently. Maybe working with Steve was the same as attending a press conference or working with the SI Board - an unpleasant, unavoidable part of the job.

Speaking of the job.

“Stark,” Steve barked into the comm. “How far away -”

_“Longer if you keep distracting me.”_

Steve and Tony had been the only ones in New York when the news of a hostage situation in the financial district had reached them. While usually a situation that would have been left to the police, the robbers had been particularly well-prepared, knocking their hostages out with a gas that left the police little option but to sit back and wait for the Avengers to swoop in. 

Things had been going fine until J.A.R.V.I.S. had detected the robbers’ backup plan in the form of a bomb placed at the building’s central support structure.Tony had focused on dismantling it as Steve rushed the civilians to safety, and now Steve was finished while -

Tony suddenly swore over the comms.

“What’s going on?” Steve demanded.

_“So I have some bad news, darling.”_

Steve pointedly moved out of earshot of the EMTs, just as a repulsor blast echoed from the building.

_“I don’t think we quite got all the bad guys.”_

Steve was back inside the bank in an instant. “Where are you?”

Another repulser blast. _“Damn, they’re slippery suckers. I know you’re probably dashing in all blue-eyed and heroic right now, but I got this one.”_

“You’re in charge of disarming the bomb.”

_“And I’m on it.”_

Steve careened around a corner. “Last I checked it was very hard to take out bad guys and dismantle bombs at the same time. I’m coming to back you up.”

_“And I’m telling you I don’t need it.”_ A third blast. _“See? Got him. We’re good. Meet you outside.”_

“That’s still not a status update.”

_“I said we’re good, how much more of an update do you need? Go wave for the cameras, buy us some sorely needed good press. I’ll be there in a jiffy.”_

Steve didn’t slow down. “Ok. And what’s really going on?”

_“Rogers, I mean it. Turn around.”_

“Tell me what’s happening and I might consider it.”

He heard Tony give an exaggerated sigh. “ _Has anyone informed you lately that the stubborn hero act is wearing thin?”_

“Stark.”

_“Ok, ok, relax.”_

“The building’s about to explode and you’re telling me to relax?”

_“It is not about to explode because_ _I’ve got everything under control.”_

“Every time you say that you have nothing under control.”

_“Let the records state that I resent that. All you need to know is that there is a small chance that I’m not going to defuse this bomb in time, and if that’s the case then you probably don’t want to be indoors in a couple of minutes.”_

Steve’s heart dropped, and he pushed himself to run faster. “I’m on my way to you.”

_“I have it under control. Just get yourself out,”_ Tony insisted, just as Steve made it into the main room of the bank, eyes drifting straight over the unconscious robber on the floor to where a red and gold suit was crouched over a complicated mess of wires and a timer counting back from thirty seconds. Tony looked up through his opened faceplate, hastily arranging a look of panic into one of annoyance. “Oh hey, Cap. Fancy seeing you here.”

“I think we need to have a talk about what a status update means.” Steve dropped to Tony’s side. “How can I help?”

“You can’t. Get out.”

_Twenty_ - _five_ _seconds_.

“Run,” Tony insisted, still focused on the bomb. 

“We go together or not at all.”

_Twenty_ _seconds._

Tony huffed, eyes not raising from his work. “I had it, then that guy fired at me out of nowhere.”

_Fifteen_ _seconds._

Steve swallowed. Even if they started running now, they would still be in the blast zone.

“Leave. It’s just a precaution anyway, I’m nearly there.”

“If it’s just a precaution, then there’s no reason for me to leave, is there?”

_Ten_ _seconds._

Tony swore at either him or the bomb, Steve wasn’t sure. Probably him.

“If this building comes down, I have the suit, just go!”

“No, not without you!”

_Five_ _seconds._

“Ok, wait - yes!” Tony’s eyes lit up.

_Three_ _seconds._

“Tony…”

“If I just…yep, and then -”

_Two._

“Tony.”

“Rogers, I got it, just _trust me.”_

_One._

Steve reacted, snatching up the shield and throwing himself across Tony’s body as the bomb detonated and the building came down around them.

Steve saw white for all of three seconds before the serum jerked him back to full consciousness, the finely honed soldier’s instinct telling him that now would _not_ be a good time to pass out.

Sensation came flooding back in a rush, Steve letting out a groan as he felt the enormous weight pressing down on his back. He was propped up on his knees and elbows, the air tasting of dust and something metallic. He tried to blink it out of his eyes, but it did nothing to clear his vision. It was pitch black, his enhanced senses only making out the faint outlines of the rubble around them. Automatically he went to lower himself down, to take some of the weight off his arms, when he registered that there was metal beneath him, not stone.

Tony. A very, very still Tony.

“Stark?” Steve rasped. “Are you -”

Relief flooded him he heard a desperate breath, followed by a series of hacking coughs. “Ugh. This better not be hell. Thought the hero gig was meant to change that.”

Steve let out a low laugh, trying to adjust for a more comfortable poison. “I should hope not. I dedicated way too many childhood hours to church for that.” The last words were lost in a gasp as he felt the shield pressed into his back shift, threatening to fill the small pocket Steve had bought for them with rubble.

“Yeah, maybe don’t…” Tony broke off with another cough. Steve recalled something in Tony’s files about the arc reactor giving his lungs reduced capacity. And with the air so dusty down here…

“Don’t move,” Steve finished for him. “Moving bad. Got it.” He felt a little stab of panic at the realization. He’d braced himself over Tony to take the majority of the fall damage, the shield keeping the worst of it from tumbling down on them, but now he couldn’t move without the risk of crushing them both.

“Yeah, no moving. We’re on the same page with that one.”

“First time for everything. Suit?”

“Useless,” Tony admitted after a moment. “Not even the comms are working.”

Steve couldn’t hold back a small groan, feeling the weight become even more oppressive.

“Cap. Are you…are you _holding up the debris right now?”_

“What did you think I was doing?”

“How was I supposed to know? I can’t see a thing down here.”

Steve swallowed back a second groan as he braced himself for the long haul. Jagged rocks were digging into his knees where they had torn right through the suit. “Maybe…if I lift a leg, you could sweep out some of the debris from under me, give me a flat surface?”

“Ah, yeah, about that. When I said the suit was useless…I mean it’s not moving. At all.”

Steve didn’t miss the faint notes of fear in Tony’s voice as he said it, the weight seeming to triple above him when he realized just how firmly Tony’s life was in his hands. “You have an emergency release, right?”

Even as he said it he realized it wasn’t going to work, but Tony confirmed it anyway. “That’s far too much movement to be worth the risk. And…look, this sucks but it’s probably safer than taking it off altogether.” After a moment, he added, “An entire unit of police officers saw this building go down on two of New York’s greatest heroes, or whatever. They’ll be digging for us right now. Just got to wait for them.”

“I can do this all day.”

Steve could feel Tony roll his eyes, even if he couldn’t see it. “Yeah, yeah, we know.” Then, “What you did was thoroughly stupid, by the way. I had it.”

“There was one second left -“

“I _had it.”_

“We’re both alive, aren’t we?”

“Should we even get started on you throwing yourself over me like the Brooklyn Bridge when I’m the one in an _indestructible suit of armor?”_

“I wasn’t going to leave you.”

“Right, better to make the heroic sacrifice than to actually trust me for five seconds.”

Steve would have frozen if he hadn’t already been stock still, keeping the shield and therefore the debris braced on his back. “I trust you.”

Tony snorted. “You won’t even let me near your suit.”

Steve went to retort that his suit was _fine,_ thank you very much, but the sentiment reminded him of the rocks that had torn the material, the way it was doing very little to keep out the cold creeping in, not to mention that it was riding up in some _very_ uncomfortable places right now. Instead he said, “When have you offered to look at my suit?”

Tony made a small noise of outrage. “All the time. You just give me this look like…I don’t know, how dare I sully a national symbol, or whatever.”

_“What?”_ Now Steve was completely lost. He thought back over the conversations, if they could be called that, he and Tony had had over the past few months, and when the suit had come up. Tony did bring it up, quite often, but it hadn’t been offering to work on it, it had been…mocking was probably the nicest way Steve could put it. “You hate this suit.”

“Of course I do, it’s garbage! I know the media loves the whole nostalgia gimmick but how on earth does that thing protect you in a fight? Or in a heist-turned-hostage situation-turned-impromptu building demolition?”

“You wanted to redesign it?”

“What the hell did you think I was nagging you for?”

“I thought…” Steve tried to wrap his head around the new perspective. “I thought you were just making fun of me.”

Tony went quiet for several seconds, which Steve hadn’t even thought was possible. “Ok, maybe some of the time. But fine, if you don’t want me near it -”

“I never said that. How am I supposed to take you up on an offer I don’t even know is there?”

“Maybe you just heard what you expected to hear,” Tony retorted.

“What else am I meant to expect?” A small part of Steve questioned if this was the time, but adrenaline was still pumping through him and it came out before he could stop it. “You’re always just _snapping_ at me. And I’ve tried to figure out why, or what I’m doing or saying that causes it, but it never seems to be the same thing twice. Sometimes it’s enough for me to just be in the room and you’ll make some comment or just…I don’t know, just make it clear that you don’t want me there and…” _And it hurts even though I don’t know why._

Tony was quiet for so long that Steve had a moment of panic that he’d passed out before his voice filled the confined space again. “I didn’t think you cared about anything I said.”

Steve swallowed back the defiant response of _I don’t,_ opting for the more honest, “If someone you lived with consistently didn’t want you around, you don’t think that would…not be ideal? Stark? The silences are getting kind of unsettling.”

The next words were muttered so quietly that Steve would have missed it if not for his enhanced hearing. “I guess I just figured that you wouldn’t care what I thought.”

“Of course I care what my team thinks. I wouldn’t be a good leader if I didn’t.” If he was a good leader at all, because he couldn’t pretend that _that_ wasn’t a doubt that plagued him several times a week. Fury had just handed the Avengers over to him and they had all collectively hoped for the best.

“Sorry,” Tony mumbled, taking Steve by surprise. “I didn’t mean to…um, I actually do know what it’s like to live with someone who doesn’t really want you around when you’re not sure why so….so that’s kind of crappy that I made you feel that way.”

“I guess…” The brace position was growing more uncomfortable by the second. “I’m sorry I didn’t trust you about the bomb. I just couldn’t risk it.”

Some of the defensiveness crept back into Tony’s voice. “Right, let’s not bank on the certified genius and world’s most successful weapons designer to be right about _dismantling a weapon.”_

“You were so close to it, I just…reacted.”

“Right, well, losing a team member in front of a large press team probably isn’t the kind of publicity we need right now.”

“Ok. _That.”_

_“That_ what?”

_“That’s_ what I mean. You say I react to what _I_ expect to hear? You twist my words into something I didn’t even mean and then throw them back in my face like I’ve offended you, and you find a way to do it no matter how carefully I try to phrase things. It’s exhausting, Tony, ok?”

“Yeah? So is trying to work with a team leader who trusts me about as far as Barton could throw me. Wasn’t the wormhole enough? Laying down on the wire - isn’t that what you _wanted?”_

Steve blinked, then winced as the movement shifted dust into his eyes. “That isn’t what I...You didn’t do that because -”

“I did that because it needed to be done. Unlike this fun little predicament, which would have been unnecessary if you had even an ounce of faith of me.”

Steve paused for a moment. “I have faith in you.”

Tony scoffed. “Sure.”

“I do,” Steve insisted. “You think I’d go into situations like this if I didn’t trust you to have my back?”

“I was the only backup available, remember?”

Steve chewed his lip for a moment before he admitted, “It’s hard, ok?”

“Hard to trust me? Yeah, sure, I -”

“Just _listen_ for once ok? It’s been hard…waking up. Here. New century, new team…and it’s not that I don’t trust the Avengers but they’re not the Commandos and…” _And none of you are Bucky._ “It’s a big adjustment. I’m still learning how this all fits together, because it shouldn’t fit together, yet this team…I want it to work, at least.” _Because I don’t have anything else._

After a moment, Tony admitted, “I want it to work too. I’m particularly good at making things work although not always…interpersonal relations of the friendly variety.”

“Me neither,” Steve admitted. “Maybe we can...I don’t know, start over? Try this again?”

“Being buried alive together? No thanks, I’m ok with this being a singular experience.”

Steve bit back a sigh, disappointed if not surprised at the rejection. “Same here. Hey, second time we’ve been on the same page today.”

“I guess miracles do happen. Hallelujah.” The words cut off with a small noise of distress.

“Stark? You good?”

“Yep just…not being able to move is…God, what is taking them so long? Maybe I should make something for this. Like a cleanup crew, just for us.”

“You mean hire?”

“Nope, make. If you want something done right, and all that. A legion of robots.”

“An Iron Legion.”

Tony made a sound of approval. “That’s not half-bad.”

The words were constricted by stress, and Steve wasn’t far behind. The burning in his muscles was starting to get to the painful mark, the serum desperately trying to catch up. “Hey, so could you maybe…”

“Not try to snap at you so often in the future?” Tony considered. “Yeah, I can work on it.”

“Not that. Although, I wouldn’t hate it if you, um, laid off a bit.” Steve strained his ears to hear any signs of those above trying to get to them, and heard nothing. They were probably still trying the best way to safely dig them out. “It’s just all getting a little heavy, and -” He heard Tony’s breath hitch underneath him. “Distract me?”

Tony relaxed slightly at being given something useful to do. “Right, distraction. I’m very good at distraction. What, just talk? Cause I’m out for the count on anything else for now.”

“Talking is good. Not that that’s very hard for you.”

“I talk so much because I have so much worth saying. Ok, settle in and let me tell you a bedtime story. Although, most of my party days probably aren’t up your ally, and I think you’ve heard all the Iron Man ones, and the childhood is something of a mess in general so…” He seemed to light on something. “Ok, yeah. I got a story. Have I told you how Rhodey and I met?”

“MIT, right?”

“Right. Um, ok, so I’m this bratty sixteen-year-old who has just graduated high school, because fuck staying at boarding school any longer than you have to - you would not _believe_ what the food is like in there. And that was one of the expensive ones and everything. Anyway, so Dad isn’t going to have me living with him again - see previous boarding school reference - and so I go into the college dorms. Not ideal but I figure, I survived boarding school, and I’m going to graduate from MIT ASAP anyway, so whatever. Anyway, I rock up and I meet my roommate for the next year.”

“Rhodey,” Steve guessed.

“Tiberius Stone,” Tony corrected.

Steve frowned. “Why does that name sound familiar?”

“Because he owns half the media in America. Most of that anti-Avengers sentiment floating around? That’s him.”

“So I’m guessing the roommate situation went badly then.”  
  
“Stop talking, I’m meant to be distracting you from the fact that you’re holding up a bank building.” 

“Yes, excellent job distracting from _that.”_

“Oh, so there is a sense of humor in there. I was wondering.”

Steve huffed. “You don’t exactly let me talk long enough to hear it.”

“Right. Anyway. Stone. He’s twenty-one, he’s smart, he’s um…well. He was Ty.” He paused. “Ok, I might not have thought this choice of memory lane all the through.”

“You could just skip to the meeting Rhodey part?”

“It’s sort of all wrapped up in the Ty part…Nope, I’m committing. Let no one say that I don’t finish what I start.”

“So you’re finally going to put our toaster back together when we get back to the Tower?”

“I’m making significant improvements.”

“On a toaster?”

“Yes. Just wait until your bread comes out the perfect level of crispiness every single time without fail, and stop ruining my flow. So, we get into our first class of the year, and we get assigned partners. Which, I didn’t love, because I’m Tony Stark and I don’t need a partner, and apparently people don’t like it when you tell them you’re too smart to need anyone else. Let’s just say Rhodey and I weren’t love at first sight. Then again, no one exactly gets on with me at a first meeting, except maybe Pepper, and even then that was a stretch. Is it too late to change to the Pepper story?”

“Tell it next.”

“Won’t need to. They’ll get us out before then.”

Steve hoped so. Willpower and serum were doing wonders, as was the knowledge that if he let go he’d be taking Tony out with him, but exhaustion and muscle fatigue were fighting back with a vengeance.

Tony started speaking again, so Steve zeroed in on his voice, trying to shut out everything else. “Rhodey and I don’t get on, but we still have to work together. I was convinced he was going to let me do all the work and steal the credit, or that his work wouldn’t compare to mine and he’d drag my grade down. And I’m sure on Rhodey’s side of things he was cursing being paired with this egotistical kid who wouldn’t listen to a single word he was saying…look, let’s just say the first assignment was a struggle.”

“Did…did you pass?”

Tony snorted, which set off another coughing fit. “You did _not_ just ask me that. Yes, we passed. But…ok, so I was always good at the practical side of stuff, but I wasn’t that ideal at explaining the work, because it seemed so pointless. So imagine my surprise when that first assignment is handed back all neatly typed and formatted with a big red A+ at the top of the page.”

“Rhodey.”

“Rhodey. He could have just done his half and laid me out to dry, but he didn’t. I, um, didn’t take it super well. Or, I did at first, but then …Ok, so you know I said I was rooming with someone called Tiberius Stone?”

“The one now trashing us in the papers.”

“The very same. Well, I told Ty what Rhodey had done, and he…Ty got it in my head that Rhodey was just trying to use me. Son of Howard Stark, straight access to a job at Stark Industries after graduation, all that. Next time we met up, that’s what I accused him of and…I should have seen it at the time, because anyone who was angling for a job would not have laid me out the way Rhodey did then. Stuff about being an irresponsible know-it-all who would have to learn how to play nice with others someday, or I was going to run into real trouble that no amount of money was going to save me from. Which at the time I took as an attack, because I took everything as an attack back then -”

“Only back then?”

Tony ignored him. “But now I can see that it was meant to be a warning. One I should have listened to because I was so busy fighting the one person at that school who was trying to help me that I missed where the real attack was coming from.” He cut off suddenly, the next breath sounded like it was dragged in through a straw.

“You good?”

“Stop asking me that. Shut up and focus on keeping us both alive.”

Steve huffed but decided not to comment. Letting Tony ramble on was helping - both of them, it seemed.

“So, for context, Ty was…nice. Well not _nice,_ but… He made friends so fast; he was always surrounded by people. He didn’t really bother with me at first, which I can see now was all part of it. That he waited until I was properly, you know…on my own until he started to invite me to come out with his friends. And to parties. With alcohol and drugs. He never treated me like a kid, or like he just wanted me for my money or connections. Of course, he did, he was just willing to play the long game. Like, the _long_ long game. He waited three months before he even tried to…well, to kiss me.”

The words came with such a layer of defensiveness that it took Steve off-guard. “And?"

“And I let him.”

Steve was even more confused than before. “Ok?”

A sudden grating of stone on stone rattled above them, a second before a second shift sent the rubble spinning sideways and the weight on Steve’s back increased.

His brain shorted out, unable to comprehend anything but pain and the pressing need to not let him and Tony get crushed to death.

“Cap? Cap - _Steve._ ”

Steve zeroed in on Tony’s voice, praying that the rubble didn’t shift any further because holding this up was agony already and if more weight was added - 

“We’re going to move.”

Steve blinked, sure he had misheard. “Moving…moving _bad.”_

“Not moving worse. We’re not even going to move that much ok? Just a little tilt to the side.”

“Tony -”

“I need you to trust me here, buddy, before -” Steve’s elbows buckled, making Tony choke back a gasp. “Before something like that happens.”

Steve sank his teeth into his lower lip. It was so much, he couldn’t hold on, he couldn’t. But if he moved - 

“Steve? You need to trust me here.”

He couldn’t - 

“All you need to do is twist your body to the left, from the hips up.”

“How do you…”

“Because I’m a genius, and if you don’t do it we’re getting crushed anyway. So on the count of three -” A groan of shifting, destroyed building echoed above them. “Scratch that now, move now, Steve, _now -”_

Steve twisted, and the shield slipped from his shoulders.

His pounding heart nearly broke his ribcage as the rubble above followed it, only to be drowned out by a sharp clang. He didn’t have the headspace to process what it was as he braced himself back over Tony, more dust raining down on them. Maybe the suit would be enough to stop both of them being taken out, or -

Or...

Or nothing was moving at all.

The weight wasn’t all gone, but it was enough that his spine didn’t feel like it was going to snap. He could feel the brush of cool metal against his left shoulder. The shield. It had titled into a makeshift shelter above their heads meaning the debris was being kept at bay - at least for now. 

It also meant that their already tiny pocket of space had just halved.

He heard Tony give a shaky laugh below him. “See, told you to trust me. How are you holding up?”

“I’m…holding up a destroyed bank.”

Tony snorted. “Ouch. I think that hurt more than the bomb did.”

Steve allowed himself an exhausted smile. “Are you ok?”

“I’m not the one who currently has a few hundred pounds of rubble on his red, white and blue shoulders.”

Steve wasn’t letting it go that easily, especially as Tony’s breathing had started to pick up again. “That’s not an answer.”

Tony relented. “Probably bruises for days but nothing is broken. Maybe a concussion. And…and that’s it.”

“Tony.”

“Nothing broken, nothing strained, nothing bleeding, we’re good. We’re good.”

“You don’t sound good.”

He really didn’t, his breath starting to slide into the beginnings of shorter gasps. “Shit,” he muttered. “Of all the possible times -”

“Talk to me, what’s happening? Is it your heart? Lungs?”

Tony let out a rough laugh. “Yeah, I thought so the first time too. Or…or poison, but really, it’s fine, it’ll pass after -” He suddenly made a low sound as his throat contracted, breathing cutting off entirely.

“What - Tony!”

Steve shuffled as best he could until his hand found Tony’s gauntlet, still hot from the repulser blasts. He had no idea if Tony could feel it, but he squeezed anyway. His mind cast about and landed on the only solution that made sense, because he’d been through this more times than he wanted to count. 

_Steve? Hey, Steve, you gotta breathe for me, pal._

“Ok, Tony, listen to me. It’s just an asthma attack, alright? I know it’s scary, but we’re going to breathe together, ok?” Steve hauled in a lungful of air as loudly as he possibly could. It tasted like ash and dust, but he ignored that, marveling not for the first time that his serum-enhanced lungs could do this at all.

_Come on, that’s good. Ok, now exhale with me, alright?_

“And, exhale.” He made a show of breathing out, willing Tony to breathe with him. He didn’t, but Steve didn’t expect him to - not yet. He inhaled again, exhaled, inhaled, and then -

And then finally, finally, Tony took a breath with him.

_Steve? You good?_

_Always, Buck._

It was short and shuddering but it was a breath, and Steve latched onto that. “Ok, good job. Can you try another?”

The next breath came easier than the first, and the next one easier than that, and soonTony’s breathing had eased out entirely to the point when he let loose a long line of expletives followed by, “Well. Thank god it's just us down here, because that was…not my favorite.”

“No,” Steve agreed. “I didn’t know - why didn’t you tell me you had asthma?”

“Why would I?”

Trust Tony to make flip him from concerned to annoyed in less than thirty seconds. “Because we go on dangerous missions constantly and out of everyone I know how detrimental asthma can be and -”

“Alright, alright, don’t get your star-spangled panties in a twist.”

Steve winced, the discomfort of how he’d been buried coming back to him, forgotten until now in all the panic.

“Wait. Wait.” Steve could hear Tony grinning, even though there was still a quaver in his voice. “Are they _actually_ in a twist?”

Steve grimaced. “I…no.”

“Did my ears just hear Captain America _lie?”_

“Shut up,” Steve warned him, glad the other man couldn’t see any spare blood in his body rushing into his cheeks. “I…it’s fine.”

Tony laughed again, and Steve would have been angrier if it hadn’t been such a complete 180 from the sounds of harsh breathing. “I’ll say it again. That suit is garbage. I know it hugs you all action figure-like but -”

“No asked you to look, Tony. You know your dad designed this suit, right? And the shield.”

Tony sobered up a bit. “Oh, really? No, he _never_ mentioned it.”

Steve hastily changed course. He didn’t know all the details about Tony’s relationship with Howard, only that Tony would clam up and deliver a scathing remark or quickly change the subject whenever the topic arose. “So we’re stuck down here a bit longer, looks like.”

“Looks like.”

“Any chance you could finish the Rhodey story? You were up until you were dating this Ty guy.”

It shouldn’t have been possible for Steve to feel Tony freeze with the suit holding him immobile, but he managed. “Yeah. Look, I shouldn’t of - I was trying to -” He made a frustrated sound in his throat. “Never mind.”

“It’s ok if you don’t want to tell me the rest,” Steve said quickly. He’d meant to ask Tony as a further distraction from their situation, not to make things worse. “Just…you know I don’t care, right?”

Tony sighed. “Yeah. Look, maybe a story about my crappy MIT boyfriend wasn’t the most simulating of conversation topics.”

“What? No, I - stop always assuming the worst about anything I say!’

“I do _not.”_

“You do so. I didn’t mean that I didn’t care about the story. I meant that I didn’t care that you’d gone steady with a guy.”

As usual, Tony deflected. _“Gone steady?_ I thought the suits over at S.H.I.E.L.D. educated you on the twenty-first century.”

“They did,” Steve retorted. “Including that it’s no longer illegal for a man to marry a man, or a woman to marry a woman.”

Tony took his time replying. “So you don’t mind because it’s not illegal. That’s the only reason.”

“No,” Steve insisted. “I mean, it’s great that it _is_ legal, but…look, just because things are a lot more liberal nowadays, you know this stuff isn’t new, right? Stuff like that happened all the time in the army. Not relationships, or at least ones the men were open about but…sex happened. And it wasn’t a big thing - at least in my unit.”

“Wait. _Wait.”_ Tony seemed to be scrambling to put his thoughts together. “Are you saying that _Captain America_ was sneaking around with…I thought you were and Aunt Peggy were soulmates, or whatever?”

Steve’s gut twisted at Peggy’s name. “I…liked her. A lot. And no, I wasn’t sneaking around, as you put it, but Bucky…he was my best friend…” The pang intensified. Bucky was the only subject that ranked higher on the pain scale than Peggy. He still couldn’t believe Bucky’s death had been decades ago, not months like it had been for him.

“I know who Bucky Barnes was, Cap. Dad never shut up about the lot of you.”

“Right.” Steve decided to move on. “Well, I never, um, partook, but he did. It wasn’t an issue then and it isn’t now.” Something clicked into place. “Did you really think I would judge you for dating a man?”

“Um, maybe?”

“Well, I don’t. That’s your business. Tony, if you’re - the word’s bisexual, right? - then I don’t have a problem with that. I never have.”

Tony was silent for a few long moments, then finally said, “I guess I just assumed -”

“Yeah, people tend to do that a lot.” The words came out more bitter than he had intended. People _did_ assume. That he’d be baffled by modern technology, even though his eidetic memory allowed him to remember how most things worked after being shown only once. That he’d be opposed to LGBTQIA+ rights, to feminism, to the Civil Rights movement. As though he hadn’t spent the war fighting the worst kinds of bullies who were in the way of making those kinds of advances happen. That he’d just want to jump right back into the fight after waking up from the ice as though he hadn’t wanted - 

He froze. Where the hell had that thought come from? Wanted _what?_

“Cap?” Tony’s words brought him back down to earth. “You still with me?”

Steve shook himself out of it. “Sorry.”

“You’re good, although I feel you either just had a very intense flashback or mini existential crisis. Been both of those places, they aren’t fun. Or…I didn’t just make you have a wakeup call about your sexuality, did I? Because I know we’re in a rather compromised position and you would be far from the first guy that I’ve made question -”

“No,” Steve said quickly. “No, I…no.” Something else fell into place. “Is that why you’ve been calling me all those nicknames?”

“I call everyone nicknames, it’s kind of part of the character build.”

“You know the ones I mean. Honey and darling and _sweetie -”_

“Aw, sweetie, I’m sorry.” Then the tone changed. “Ok, a little,” Tony admitted. “I was trying to see if I could rile you up a bit by…I’m not going to call it flirting, because that is a mockery to my courting expertise -”

“Last week I saw you hand Pepper a bouquet that she threw in the trash without even looking at you.”

“Ah, yeah I may have done some last-minute date rescheduling to get to that fire in Queens -”

“The fire department and I had it handled, you know.”

“I _never_ know.” Tony sighed. “I know I pretend I do, but there are always so many variables. I try to prep for them all…and hey, if I hadn’t been there, what if it had been worse? What if it had destroyed something important in Queens?”

“There’s something important in Queens?”

“There might be. Variables, remember?”

“You can’t prep for every outcome, you know.”

“Watch me.” Clearly keen to get off-topic, Tony changed the subject.“I’m not, by the way. Bisexual.”

“Oh.” Steve’s forehead creased. “So Stone was a one-off?”

“Definitely not a one-off,” Tony clarified. “Plenty of men. Plenty of women. So, yeah I fit that definition but that definition never really seemed to fit me. I guess if you want to label it, I’m queer. Not that it…well not that it doesn’t _not_ matter, but I’ve only ever been in love with one person, and that’s Pepper Potts, and that’s enough definitions for me. Should probably stop rescheduling dates if I want that to last.” He let out a low laugh. “Somehow, this was not how I pictured coming out to Captain America.”

“So that was something you pictured?”

Tony hummed. “I guess…I don’t know, I thought…” He seemed to come to a conclusion. “I thought something dumb, ok?”

Steve decided that was probably as close to a ‘I was wrong’  from Tony he was ever going to get. “So are you going to stop…” He bit back on the words _being mean to me,_ catching how childish they sounded.

Tony completed the thought for him. “I…yeah. Maybe I haven’t…Look, my dad never shut up about you, ok? He spent all the time I had with him, which wasn’t a lot, mostly talking about you or searching for you. But I guess…I guess that’s not your fault. And maybe I took that out on you which wasn’t…ideal. God, I think Pepper’s rubbing off on me. I don’t like it.”

Steve smiled. “I do.”

“Shut up. God, what is taking them so long?”

“Probably not trying to crush us to death.”

“Ok. Fine. Guess I can give them that one.” Steve heard Tony strain, as though trying to move, his breath hitching when he couldn’t.

“You ok?”

“Always. That emergency release still not an option?”

“It’s a risk,” Steve said apologetically. “We don’t know how that kind of movement will -”

“Ok, ok, don’t worry about it.” Tony closed his eyes for a few seconds. “Ok, so, as we’re apparently doing confessions about labels and such…I don’t have asthma.”

“But, before when -”

“It’s called…ok, why not, let’s do this. It’s called anxiety.”

“Oh.” Steve wracked his brains for what he had read about anxiety disorders. That had been part of the initial S.H.I.E.L.D. briefing, but he had gotten so caught up on shellshock and battle fatigue being diagnosed as PSTD instead that he had glossed over the others. “Anxiety makes it hard to breathe?”

“Sometimes. There are certain triggers that can make it happen. Enclosed spaces, for one. Not a big fan. Doesn’t make the Christmas card list.”

Steve blinked at him. “But the suit -”

“That’s different. I control the suit. Well, usually.” He made a token attempt to shift his arms and legs. “I don’t like…I’m not a big fan of the lack of control thing. Hence controlling all the variables.”

Steve let go of the argument that no one could control all the variables, not even Tony Stark. “Neither. Was never big on following orders.”

“I got that much when you refused to run out of the exploding building.”

“What, you’d rather I’d left you?”

He heard Tony sigh. “For Pepper’s sake…and I guess a little bit of mine, I suppose I’m glad you stopped me getting smashed by falling Arc Deco architecture. And…and that might have been a much worse anxiety attack if you hadn’t…you know.”

“That helped?”

“I’m breathing, aren’t I?”

“That’s what Bucky used to do for me,” Steve explained quietly. “When I had a bad attack, and there was no one else around. He was always looking after me like that.” He was suddenly very glad for the darkness surrounding them. “And I then I got the serum, and I thought it was finally my turn to help him.”

Tony was quiet for a long moment. Finally, he said, “Look, this isn’t my forte, but for what it’s worth, I’m sorry about…you know. All of it.”

“Thanks, Tony.”

“Sure. Whatever.” Tony exhaled. “Dad never shut up about that story, you know. When you rushed in to save the 107th single-handedly. How he got to fly you there, and everything.”

“I was just doing what I thought was right.”

“Still. Kind a miracle you didn’t get shot.”

“Well, I didn’t get shot, did I?”

“That sacrificial streak is going to get you into trouble one of these days.”

_Hasn’t it already?_ “You’re one to talk.”

“I’m not the one who threw themselves on top of someone in an _indestructible suit.”_

“Yes, but you were the one who flew a nuke into a wormhole.”

The words were met with a sharp intake of breath. “Yeah, you know how I said the anxiety had certain triggers? That’s one.”

“Sorry. I didn’t realize…” Steve failed to keep the surprise out of his voice, then cursed himself. Of course that experience had been worse than Tony had let any of them believe. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“We all kind of just…ignored it.”

“It was fine,” Tony brushed it off. Then, “It was, actually. Going up, anyway. That was a choice. It was the coming _down_ that…”

“Loss of control?”

“Loss of control,” Tony agreed.

Steve stopped holding his tongue. “You know even you can’t control everything, right?”

“Watch me.”

_“Tony.”_

“I have more resources than most people on this planet put together, and I spent too many years wasting them. Gotta make up for lost time.”

“And that’s good, but…” Steve swallowed back memories of gunfire and trenches. “People still get hurt. No matter how much you plan or how well-prepared you are, you still lose people.” _His father. His mother. Bucky._ “You can’t control that.”

He heard a small wince and a groan from Tony, as though he had tried to move again. “I’ve been running up some plans…”

“Yeah?” Steve fought not to make his tone wary. Tony’s plans were always something of a hit or miss, and when they missed they missed _hard._

Tony cleared his throat. “Yeah. Starting with that god awful suit of yours.”

_That_ wasn’t what Steve had been expecting to hear. “You hate it that much?”

“It’s lacking in the fashion department, yeah, but also that mission you and Romanoff took over in Detroit.”

Steve took a second to remember it. “Um, yeah?”

“You got shot.”

“I healed.”

“Not the point. It wouldn’t be that hard to weave in some kevlar without losing the flexibility. Make it more resistant to heat, to cold, tone down the colors so you weren’t such an obvious target -”

“The whole point of the stars and stripes thing was to make me the target.”

“All the more reason to give you better armor.”

Steve’s lips quirked. “It’s a uniform, not armor.”

Tony ignored that. “And some other ideas around the squishier side of the team. Maybe a forcefield feature in Natasha’s Bites, could probably rig up something similar in Barton’s quiver…and I know the big green one doesn’t exactly need any additional protection but Bruce and I have been working on a failsafe - something so that Bruce doesn’t flinch every time someone closes a door too loudly. And something…something else.”

“Something else?” Steve prompted.

“Yeah, but the technology is still like a decade or so off, even for me. Just say it’s a safeguard against another New York, but on a global scale.”

“I thought we were the safeguard against another New York.”

“Yeah? And what happens when we’re not enough? Or we are, but we take losses anyway?”

“I think…” Steve looked for his words carefully. “I think that that is always going to be a possibility, and if it happens it won’t be your fault.”

“I can always do more.”

“That sounds like a lot of pressure to put on yourself.”

“Pot. Kettle. Great, now I want coffee.”

“Ok, ok.” Steve blinked, wishing he could see anything but inky blackness. It was becoming oppressive, and he couldn’t imagine what it was like for Tony, already claustrophobic and unable to move on top of that. And if he couldn’t get them out of there, he could at least keep Tony focused on something else. “Hey, so, you don’t have to tell me any more about that Stone guy than you want to, but I wouldn’t mind hearing the end of how you and Rhodey became friends.”

“Right.” Tony seemed to deliberate before coming to a decision. “Look, I can’t really tell it without Stone, but as we’re doing this screwed up take on slumber party confessions anyway…the nutshell version is that Ty was a manipulative dick, I was young and stupid enough to fall for the act, and Rhodey saw through all of it. So of course Rhodey tries to talk some sense into me, and Ty hears about it and starts putting all these thoughts in my head - that Rhodey’s trying to use me and manipulate me, as if it isn’t Ty that’s doing that. No prizes for guessing who I believe. And because Rhodey is Rhodey, all he saw was some dumb kid who kept getting into trouble that he didn’t want to give up on.” 

Steve smiled. “Sounds like Bucky.” Again, he felt the pang in his chest, but pushed it aside to focus on Tony’s story.

“Then one night I’m in my bedroom and I find one of Rhodey’s term papers tucked into Ty’s backpack. Which is weird, right? Not like they’re mates that are going to share study notes. I thought about asking him about it. But I don’t. I just pretend I haven’t seen it. And then, the next day, I’m walking past the dean’s office and Rhodey is trying to insist that someone stole his work, and the dean doesn’t believe him, says it’s an automatic failed paper. I should have left but I was just frozen in place, and then Rhodey suddenly comes bursting out...I can count on one hand the amount of times I’ve seen Rhodey that upset, and I’ve been the cause of most of them. I was technically the cause of this one too, because obviously Ty has done it to get back at Rhodey for standing up for me and…”Tony paused for breath, coughing a little.

“You ok?” Steve asked him.

“Yeah, just dusty air. Reduced lung capacity.”

“They’ll get us out soon.”

“Mm.” Tony didn’t dwell on it, for which Steve was grateful. “Ok, to get to the point, I confront Ty about it, we’ve both had a couple of drinks and it goes badly. It goes…it goes badly. And so quickly Ty turns it all around on me, because now I’m the bad guy because I don’t trust him, that I’m believing the word of some…ok, I’m not going repeat what he said, but it was the 1980s and MIT was mostly still a white school so I’ll let you put two and two together on what he called Rhodey then. And I think it was that…what he said, but also the way he said it, with so much hate. It was this glimpse at the real him that he was usually so careful to hide around me, but like I said we’d been drinking and it just slipped out and then I just knew. That Rhodey had been right, that I’d been such an idiot -”

“You were _sixteen.”_

“Seventeen by that point. I told him we were done.”

“Bet he didn’t take that well.”

“He told me ‘Good luck finding anyone else who will put up with you’.”

Steve inhaled sharply. “That’s awful.”

“Maybe. I mean, he wasn’t _wrong,_ I’m not exactly - _”_

“He was wrong.”

Steve heard Tony’s mouth open and close several times before he landed on, “Yeah, well, Pepper seems to be sticking around for now.”

“Not just Pepper, Tony.”

Their air pocket went so quiet that Steve swore he could hear the scraping of diggers above them. Unless it was just wishful thinking.

Tony cleared his throat. “I’m going to finish the story.”

“Please do.”

“Right. So, I leave Ty, I have no idea what to do with myself, then I find myself outside Rhodey’s room because he’s the only person in the whole place who seems to give a damn about me for whatever reason, and he lets me crash there without question. For the rest of the year.”

“And Stone?”

“Yeah, look, I…I guess as much as I want to say that was the end of it, it wasn’t. So many times I nearly went back to him, and every time Rhodey stopped me. So Ty changed tactics. He stopped trying to…win me back is a bit generous. Get me back under his thumb might be more accurate. So he and his friends started targeting Rhodey instead.”

Steve heard Tony swallow, collecting himself.

“It got…pretty bad. And Rhodey just put up with it. I had no idea why, because I was just some annoying kid he didn’t even really know. But they were trying everything - breaking into his room when he wasn’t there, sabotaging his notes, and, when that wasn’t enough, they hid drugs in his room. Again - the 1980s. Mostly white school. You can imagine how well that went over.”

“They kicked him out?”

“They tried to. So I told the dean they were mine. I mean, they weren’t going to kick _me_ out, I was their media show pony. They tried to tell my parents but they didn’t care, the tabloids had already painted a pretty vivid picture of what I was using my college days for, so it wasn’t a big surprise to anyone. Ty was a pretty heavy user himself at that point and…”

The debris suddenly shifted, making Steve flinch and Tony curse as a fresh rain of dust coated them both, the sounds of diggers getting louder and making Steve pray that the people above knew what they were doing. He heard Tony’s breath catch and said quickly, “Finish the story.”

“Right. Ok.” Tony latched onto the distraction, starting up again. “So there’s a party one night, that I probably shouldn’t have been at, but I was. So was Ty. So were his friends. And I was drunk but then I was like, _really_ drunk, drunker than what I should have been and too late realizing that this wasn’t like being drunk _at all-”_

Steve failed to keep the horror out of his voice. “Tony…” 

“Don’t have a freak out yet - nothing happened. Rhodey showed up and kicked their asses, and one of them was dumb enough to pull a gun just as the campus police showed up. Don’t ask me where he got it, or why he brought it to a party, it was college and those things just kind of happened but between that and their most prestigious student - yours truly, if that wasn’t obvious enough - suggesting to the dean that it would be better if certain students weren’t around to mess up the school’s reputation, they got kicked out and I…”

“Got a best friend.”

“Sure, if you want to make this into an after-school special, I got a friend out of someone I didn’t think was worth my time, once I realized who were my real enemies, and who were my real allies. Does that make sense?”

An unexpected warmth rose in Steve’s chest as he realized just why Tony had selected this story to tell him. “It makes sense,” he said softly, just as the pieces of rubble weighing them down were lifted, freeing them completely.

Steve jolted upright, ignoring the aches and pains as he hauled in lungfuls of fresh air, reaching to pull the emergency release on the Iron Man suit. Tony allowed Steve to help pull him out of the metal prison before Steve hauled them both over the side of the crater, where EMTs were already swarming them with shock blankets and oxygen masks.

Steve caught sight of Tony’s dirt-streaked face, relief quickly replaced by something like embarrassment as the light illuminated them again, the safety of the darkness that had surrounded their confessions long gone.

Tony broke the silence first. “So. We good?”

_I got a friend out of someone I didn’t think was worth my time, once I realized who were my real enemies, and who were my real allies._

“Yeah,” Steve replied. “We’re good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: It's back to 2017, and Steve and Tony are definitely not good.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tried the regular posting schedule thing. Didn't work. I am now fully embracing the chaos of sporadic updates.
> 
> This chapter is somewhat plot-heavy so if you want a refresher on previous fics you can find it [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29372055/chapters/72152724)

**Present Day  
  
**

“We good?”

Steve glanced over his shoulder as he said the words, seeing no one. He whirled around, wondering how had he lost his companion without even noticing, until he spotted a black-clad figure around the Compound building. He ducked his head, having enough sense to look sheepish as Sharon Carter jogged over to him, out of breath with strands of blonde hair sticking to her forehead. “Not all of us are super-soldiers, you know.”

“Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.” Sharon gave him that half-smile that had the distracting habit of making his heart skip as she made her way over to where they had left their towels and water bottles. “Not for outpacing me, and not for making me get up at this ungodly hour of the morning in order to spend time with you.”

Steve winced as he scooped up his water, hoping the heat from the run was hiding his flushing cheeks. 

_You really want this to work?_

_Yes._

_Ok. Then I need at least some assurance._

_What kind of assurance?_

_That if I let you in, you don’t go all in. You save something for yourself. You still spend time with your friends, you take that girl on a date, and you don’t fuck up the Accords and get yourself arrested, even if they go back on their word and turn against my favor._

Steve had some stiff competition for the worst top ten moments in his life, but that fight with Bucky might have cracked it. He had been so excited to get Bucky’s message, that he was finally ready to talk to him, to let Steve help him and…

And instead he had insisted that Steve help himself.

Steve had been exponentially glad for F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s privacy settings as he made his way back to his quarters, the late hour meaning he didn’t run into any of the Compound’s other residents on his way. He hid his face anyway, reminding himself that Bucky’s hearing was almost as good as his own. Even in the haze of emotion and overwhelm from their argument, Steve could acknowledge that Bucky asking for something he wanted was a huge step in the right direction, and he didn’t want to undermine it by Bucky hearing him - 

Steve forced himself to breathe. Out of all the directions he had expected that conversation to go, the turn it had taken hadn’t even crossed his mind. He and Bucky _didn’t fight._ Sure, they had had the odd argument here and there growing up, as friends and roommates inevitably did, but they never properly fought. And never in a manner that meant there might not be a way back.

_I’m asking….No, I need to hear you say this. That if it came down to your life or someone else’s - to your life or mine - you would at least consider yours. That if we were to replay Siberia, you could actually listen to what I said I wanted and take the shot. You asked me what I needed._ That’s _what I need, Steve._

Steve slammed the door to his apartment closed behind him, asking F.R.I.D.A.Y. to keep the lights off as he slid down the door, putting his head in his hands.

_I don’t think I can promise that, Buck._

What the hell had he been thinking? Bucky had given him a window to be in his life again, and Steve had just slammed it closed. And _why?_

_That if we were to replay Siberia, you could actually listen to what I said I wanted and take the shot._

Right. That’s why.

Steve swiped at both eyes, filled with a sudden urge to call Sam or Natasha that he hastily tamped down on. It was late, and there was a good chance they were asleep. Kilgrave had hurt them both, and all because Steve hadn’t been able to stop him. No one had escaped that infiltration unscathed, and all because Steve wasn’t doing his job - wasn’t living up to his role as leader. 

_That if I let you in, you don’t go all in. You save something for yourself._

Steve pulled in another breath. Self-pity wasn’t helping anyone. Kilgrave was on the Raft. No one on the team had been permanently hurt. And as for Bucky…

_We learn from this. And we do better._

Natasha’s words from after the Tower fire came back to him, burning into his brain.

He could do this. There was room to be a better captain, keep what remained of the team together, _and_ fulfill enough of Bucky’s requirements that his best friend would give him a spot back in his life.

Not that Bucky needed him. He had Clint, and Natasha, and it seemed Bruce now as well.

_But you need him._

That voice sounded suspiciously like his mother’s, and Steve tried to visit the past as little as he could these days, so he pushed those feelings down, trying to focus on the present. 

He could do this. Starting with something small.

Promising to stop Bucky if he turned full Winter Soldier again was a bit much. But as Bucky was free of the programming, and Hydra was in the ground, maybe Steve could fulfill enough of Bucky’s other requests to avoid answering that one.

_You still spend time with your friends, you take that girl on a date, and you don’t fuck up the Accords and get yourself arrested, even if they go back on their word and turn against my favor._

Steve had no current intentions to disrupt the Accords; had been careful to play as nice as he could without compromising too much.

Damn Amendment 6c. He knew it had been written with him in mind. One of the Avengers goes against the Accords, the entire team pays the price. Not to mention that _other_ promise Harding had made, as soon as the deal had been made to bring Bucky in and Tony had been out of earshot. Bucky’s parole ending didn’t just depend on psychological evaluations. It depended on Steve’s cooperation as well.

So he could keep that one, he hoped, even though it was getting harder as he felt the net of the Accords being pulled tighter around them. And as for spending time with friends…

Steve brought his head out of his hands, looking around the apartment. He had started to hate the place, spending as little time there as possible. Everything in it reminded him of Tony. The subtle blue carpet and cream walls that provided calm during a sensory overload. The kitchen filled with high-tech gadgets that Tony had placed there for more joke than utility. The mattress purchased for him after Steve had finally admitted that the original one had been far too soft after months on the frontlines, bought with an eye roll and a “You should have told me you weren’t sleeping sooner, Spangles.”

That had been after the collapse of the bank, where Steve and Tony had finally seemed to find some kind of equilibrium. It wasn’t agreement, and Steve was sure they were far too different at their cores for that, and it wasn’t quite understanding either, but it had been something Steve had latched onto all the same. He had known so few people in this strange new world. Bucky was gone, the Commandos were gone, and Peggy was…

Then he had found a group of people who were just as lost and outcast as he was, and they had made him their captain and he had thought, maybe, there was a place for him after all. A home, as he had told Tony after Ultron - after Tony had told him it was time for him to tap out. And Steve had let him. Had let the rift between them grow, had kept the knowledge about Tony’s parents to himself with a threadbare excuse of it being to spare Tony pain. Hadn’t thought to fix that first crack that had formed when Steve had thrown his shield at Tony over the body that would become Vision, even when it had been proved that Tony had been right. And that Steve hadn’t trusted him to be.

_We learn from this. And we do better._

Steve counted to ten. Then he pulled out his phone and texted Sharon.

He hadn’t expected her to answer right away, let alone agree to meet him on his early morning run. Steve had long since given up on trying to convince Sam to join him, with Sam insisting that he needed sleep, and would be happy to run with Steve if he did so just a couple of hours later. 

But the serum meant that Steve only needed five or so hours of sleep a night anyway, and he was getting three to four which he reckoned was pretty good. If he went for a run with Sam at seven that meant they didn’t finish until eight, and then they had to shower, and then any business with the Accords Committee or New S.H.I.E.L.D. usually stated around nine and then- 

No. Steve liked to run at 5 am. Not to mention, there was no one _around_ at 5 am. No one watching him, no one waiting for him to slip up. Just him.

That was nice. Sometimes.

And Sharon had agreed to join him.

It had been the most practical solution to the problem Bucky had proposed. Steve was running in the mornings anyway, and if he invited Sharon along he got to see her and go for his run, and then he could still hit up the gym for a boxing session before any Committee or New S.H.I.E.L.D. business. He wasn't sure if that counted as a _date,_ but Sharon had said yes, and if he told Bucky about that then maybe…maybe….

Sharon finished her water bottle and without hesitation Steve offered her the rest of his. She raised her eyebrow as she took it. “Your backwash isn’t going to give me superpowers or anything, is it?” She considered as Steve felt his cheeks grow even hotter. “Wait, no. I’ve had your backwash.” She gestured down to her sweat-soaked jogging attire. “Still _very_ human. I think we’re good.”

“Backwash?”

Sharon sent him a smile. “A little.”

“That bad, huh?” The words slipped out before he could stop them, Natasha’s voice echoing in his ears.

_I just wondered how much practice you’d had._

_You don’t need practice._

_Everybody needs practice._

“It wasn’t my worst.”

Sharon handed the bottle back to him, and Steve scrambled for something else to say. Company on the run had been brief. After an awkward attempt at talk at the beginning, he had just slipped into his usual headspace and started running. Which still counted as spending time together, right? Enough to tell Bucky about? Enough that maybe - 

“So.” Sharon dried herself off with her towel. Two women passed them on their way to the Compound, throwing looks at Steve. Steve tried to ignore them, their attire marking them as New S.H.I.E.L.D. agents rather than Committee members. New S.H.I.E.L.D. had opened their home base in Washington D.C., but it had been practical for Maria Hill and the organization to have a small branch within the Compound, given how often Maria worked with them.

Sharon’s eyes darted between Steve and the women, one eyebrow cocked. “See something you like?”

“What? No, I wasn’t -” Steve suddenly had to force the memory of Private Lorraine out of his mind as the blushing situation got beyond ridiculous.

“Steve.” Sharon waited until he was looking her in the eye before she said, “Has anyone told you you’re fun to tease?”

Steve grimaced. “So I’ve heard.”

Sharon must have read the defensiveness in his voice, because she took a step closer so she could lay a hand on his arm. “It’s a good thing.”

“That I’m fun to tease?”

“Teasing,” Sharon clarified. “Teasing is good. You know everyone on my New S.H.I.E.L.D. team calls me Nurse Jackie now.”

“After you were sent to spy on me, you mean?”

Sharon didn’t apologize for it. “I was doing my job. Teasing shows comfort. Familiarity. That you’re willing to let your guard down around friends.”

Steve thought back to how the Commandos used to consistently call him Stripes or Target Practice due to the uniform, or ‘kiddo’ due to his age. He remembered being defensive about it at first, before realizing it was different from being called Mick or cripple. It had been friendly - marking him as one of their own.

_Capsicle. Old Man. Spangles._

_You’re on a date. Stop thinking about Tony._

Steve noticed Sharon watching him, waiting for a response. “Well, in that case,” he tried. “You run slow.” His face was fire the second the words left his mouth, breaking eye contact. “Wow. That happened.”

“That the best you got, Rogers?”

“Um…maybe?” 

Sharon gave him that half-smile. “So. I believe I promised you the world’s crappiest cup of coffee.”

Steve blinked. “Right. You did. Um…” He did some quick math. “Saturday?”

It was Sharon’s turn to do a double-take. “Saturday…yeah. Ok.”

_You still don’t know a bloody thing about women._

“Now,” Steve clarified, wondering if he was ever going to get to be around Sharon without feeling like a tomato. “You meant get a coffee now.”

A chink formed in Sharon’s usually careful demeanor. “We don’t have to. It’s fine.”

“No, we can. Definitely.”

“I said it’s fine.” Sharon tossed her towel over her shoulder, looking at the new S.H.I.E.L.D. wing of the Compound as though thinking of heading that way. “It’s not an obligation.”

“Sharon, wait - ”

“I think I might be done waiting, Steve.”

_That if I let you in, you don’t go all in. You save something for yourself._

“Sharon. Would you like to get coffee with me? Right now, that is.”

Sharon paused in her retreat. “Do we actually get to talk, or are you going to run ahead of me the whole time?”

“Yeah, that wasn’t, um…” So much for killing two birds with one stone. “Yes. We can talk. Or you can just talk, and I can listen.”

“So now you want me to do all the heavy lifting?”

His heart sped up in panic for a second before he saw that she was smiling. “Right. Teasing.”

“Now you’re getting it.”

Steve’s phone pinged.

“Is that important?”

“Probably. But we’re doing coffee, so it can wait.” It pinged again. Steve ignored it. “Where are we going?”

“So now I have to find the location _and_ do all the talking?”

“I’ll pay?”

“That’s a start.”

Steve’s phone started to ring. “Sorry,” he muttered, before pulling it out and seeing Natasha’s name glaring at him. “It’s Natasha. Do you mind if I -”

“Seeing as Natasha almost never calls anyone, you’d better.”

“I’ll make it quick. Then coffee.” He answered the phone, barely getting out a hello before Natasha drowned him out with three words. _Someone took Clint._

Steve had quickly promised a makeup date before running back into the Compound to try and get everyone to assemble, only to fight with Tony, have Natasha bring Clint back on her own, and then find himself buried under Committee scrutiny and paperwork.

But the makeup date was going to happen. Definitely. He was going to text Sharon and set a time and they were going to get coffee. Then he was going to tell Bucky about it, and…

And he hadn’t meant for five days to pass, things had just gotten busy, but from the look Sharon had given him as he had entered the board room that morning, he was starting to think that five days was too long.

_I won’t wait around forever._

Steve tore his gaze away from where Sharon was pouring over the briefing packet, fighting to keep his attention on Assistant Secretary Michael Harding. The man made everything sound like he was reading a phone book. Steve would place good money that that was deliberate; having the people around him tune out and miss the life-altering statements delivered in monotone.

“And that is why we are proposing additional Committee oversight to all Avengers-related activities,” Harding finished, looking up from his notes to stare at a point just over Steve’s left shoulder. Steve was sitting towards the end of the long table, with Maria and Sharon on his left and Tony twirling a pen to his right. Sharon had been dropping in on more and more on these meetings as well as other New S.H.I.E.L.D. activities, which meant a promotion was probably on the horizon. Which meant she would be busier, which meant if he wanted a coffee date then now would probably be better than later - 

“You already approve all Avengers-related activities,” Maria was saying, and Steve reminded himself to pay attention. “All Avengers reside at the Compound for a minimum sixty percent of their downtime with regular check-ins. They collaborate with New S.H.I.E.L.D., which is a government agency. How much more oversight do you need?”

Harding switched his gaze from staring over Steve’s shoulder to looking over Maria’s. “The kind that prevents said Avengers from running missions without permission - ”

“They were emergencies,” Sharon cut in. “Life and death scenarios.” 

Harding talked over her as though she hadn’t spoken. “Such as running around this Compound with a deadly weapon or deciding to perform extractions out of enemy territory without Committee approval.”

Tony snorted. “Ok, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Firstly, it wasn’t enemy territory, it was our own damn backyard, which I would have discovered sooner if you weren’t leashing every piece of technology in here from the Iron Man suits to our electric toothbrushes. Secondly, it was a bow and arrow - relax about it.”

Maria broke the silence that followed. “I don’t believe that was the weapon the Assistant Secretary was referring to.”  


It took Steve a second to catch on, and when he did it took all his self-control to stay seated. “Bucky is not a weapon.”

“That remains to be decided.” Harding turned the page. “The Committee is in discussion about further oversight in relation to these two incidents. Due to the extraordinary circumstances, we are prepared to excuse Agent Barton at this time with a warning."

"A warning," Steve repeated. "For him and Bucky taking out a psychopath that escaped _your_ facility."

"We took that into consideration on our decision," Harding continued. "Which is why only a warning is being instated at this time. We're here to protect the public, just as you are, Captain Rogers." He checked his notes. " Agent Romanoff, on the other hand -”

“Prevented a dangerous group of unknown enemies from extracting Avengers secrets,” Maria interrupted him.

“Conducted an unauthorized search and rescue in enemy territory without clearing it with the Committee,” Harding finished.

Steve put his hands below the table so no one would see the fists he was making, even though he saw Sharon catch the gesture. “With all due respect,” Steve said, keeping his voice calm. “Lives are more important than paperwork.”

Harding didn’t acknowledge that he had spoken. “Agent Romanoff acted without the Committee’s permission which, under Amendment 9c, means that anyone acting until the title of Avenger is accountable for her actions. At this point in time, and given the circumstances, we have decided to be lenient and are looking to respond with stricter observation methods as opposed to repercussions on Avenger team members.”

Steve was half a second from stating that that was anything but lenient, when Tony beat him to it. “This is going to happen again.”

The whole room turned to him. Tony went to take a sip from his coffee cup, then grimaced when he realized it was empty, looking around as though a refill was going to appear out of thin air.

“Mr Stark,” Harding prompted. “Are you saying you deliberately intend to break the Accords?”

Tony threw Steve a glance. _“_ If a situation is going south, we’re not going to ignore it.”

“Is that a threat?” Harding asked, tone unchanged.

“It’s a fact.” Tony pushed away from the empty cup in annoyance. “Seriously, if these meetings are going to continue to drag on every time, we should at least get a barista or something on standby.”

“I think that might be considered a security risk,” Maria answered dryly.

“I’ll have them sign a very comprehensive NDA. I’ve gotten rather good at legalities over the past year.” Tony sent another glance over at Steve, with an expression Steve hadn’t seen since…since he couldn’t remember. A request for backup. “I’ve backed these things from the beginning, remember? We’re not trying to overthrow the Accords or stage a coup, so don’t get dramatic about it. But I think we can all agree that there need to be safeguards.”

Steve sat up straighter at hearing his own words in Tony’s mouth. That final meeting before Germany, before Siberia, before all of it, felt like a million years ago. When he and Tony had met to try and find some common ground and failed. Steve remembered handing back Tony’s - no, Howard’s pen.

_Hate to break up the set._

Harding gestured to the agenda. “We have another item to get through today and I do not work outside my designated hours."

“Trust me, I’m not in the market to make this meeting any longer than it needs to be either.” Tony leaned back in his chair, all but throwing his feet up on the table. “We need a new Amendment. An emergency protocol. So if something like Kilgrave happens again, _in our own home_ \- we can react without fear of repercussion.”

Harding’s expression didn’t change. “We have been reasonable in the past. Your missing intern, for example. Or the attack of the enhanced terrorists in your lab.”

That brought Steve up short. He hadn’t even been aware that the Committee had been involved in either of those. Tony sent a look that clearly said, _Not now_ , and Steve tucked that piece of information away for later.

“It’s not an unreasonable request,” Maria chimed in. “If members of the team or civilians are in danger, neutralizing the threat immediately would be in everyone’s best interests.”

“Submit a proposal,” Harding replied. “And we will take it under consideration.”

“And in the meantime we just stand back and do nothing?” The words left Steve’s mouth before he had even decided to speak, and immediately he had Maria, Sharon, and Tony’s eyes on him all at once, clearly telling him to stand down.

“You will abide by the laws the United Nations, New S.H.I.E.L.D., and the Avengers themselves signed,” Harding droned. “That was our agreement.”

“Not sure that’s what I’d call it, sir.”

“Captain Rogers,” Maria said, sending him a look. Steve glanced beyond her to Sharon, who was pointedly not looking at him. To Harding, Maria said, “We’ll put together the paperwork for the proposal. In the meantime, I would ask you to take the value of the information that Agent Romanoff both recovered and prevented from falling into enemy hands, as well as Agent Barton’s extensive history working with S.H.I.E.L.D. and the psychologists' notes on Sergeant Barnes’s recovery, into consideration.”

Maria pulled a thick file from her briefcase and handed it over to Harding. Steve had to swallow back another protest when he saw it. He knew Maria did her job well, but should they really be handing that much information over to a Committee they barely knew, let alone trusted?

Harding took the file without looking at it, looking back to his agenda. “We will process that information as we make our decision. Now, our final item. The release of Daniel Cohen from New S.H.I.E.L.D. custody.”

Steve blinked at the unfamiliar name, looking around the room to realize that he was the only one. Sharon seemed to notice first, because she slipped him a piece of paper across the table. Steve glanced down at the profile of the twenty-two-year-old man who looked like he belonged on a university campus, not in a jail cell. Then his eyes slid down to crimes listed, and widened. “You’re letting this guy go?”

“No,” Maria corrected him. “But we’re passing him over to State police. Neither New S.H.I.E.L.D nor the Accords Committee has jurisdiction over him.”

“Why wouldn’t we have jurisdiction after what he did?”

Tony seemed to cotton on to where Steve was getting at because he tried to head him off. “Let it go, Rogers. It’s done, and this guy is taking up our resources by keeping him here.”

“Let it go?” Steve shook his head. “Tony, this guy almost _killed_ you -”

“Cohen wasn’t aware that the tar he used could have been deadly,” Maria continued. Her tone was calm, but Steve read the warning to back down behind the words. “Of course, if there had been fatality or injury there would be harder consequences, but as there wasn’t -”

“It was a hate crime.” Tony swung his legs around so he was leaning over the desk. “Or a political protest. Or a fan who got a little overexcited. Whatever. He never got specific. I’ve dealt with that kind of thing before, and I’ll deal with it again. It was some stupid kid with ideals who got his chemistry mixed up.”

“And what if it wasn’t?” Steve insisted. “What if the intent was to kill, or he has friends, or -”

“Just because Zemo got one over on us doesn’t mean that everything is a big conspiracy,” Tony snapped back at him. “We aren’t the public’s favorite superhero family anymore. Stuff like this happens.”

“You mean other stuff has happened?” He hadn’t heard of anything, but then again, he had been keeping away from the press as per Tony and Pepper’s instructions.

Tony waved it off. “We’re not responsible for stopping every criminal in the world.”

“No.” Harding slid his papers into his briefcase, closing it with a snap. “You are not. Which is why we exist.” He nodded a spot on the back wall. “Cohen will be reprimanded into State custody today. Meeting adjourned.”

Steve stood as Harding did, focusing his next words on Maria. “Are you sure he’s no longer dangerous?”

“We’ve checked him out. Thoroughly. Short of letting Natasha interrogate him, which you were strictly against, we have everything we’re going to get.” She checked her watch. “I have to go meet the NYPD officers they’re sending to pick him up.”

“I’m coming,” Steve replied immediately, catching Tony’s eye roll as he went to follow Harding out of the room.

“He’s not dangerous, Rogers,” Tony called over his shoulder. “So stop playing hero for five minutes, it’s getting old.”

“He’s not an Avengers-level threat,” Maria clarified. “And Tony already agreed to be the Avengers representative on the transfer, so you’re good to go.” Steve almost missed it, but he was almost sure he saw Maria glance at Sharon as she added, “I’m sure you have other places you’d much rather be.”

Steve hovered, unsure. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Maria’s judgment, far from it, but there was something _off_ about the situation that he wasn’t finding words for.

Sharon saved him. “There’s nothing in that ever-growing law book that says you can’t come. I’m joining the Director anyway if you want to walk with me.”

“Yes,” Steve said, a little too quickly, catching Tony’s calculating look between them. What was it with people and surreptitious looks around him today? “I trust you,” he told Maria. “I do, I just…I have a feeling.”

“Yeah, yeah, I think we all have plenty of _feelings.”_ Tony was making his way to the door. “Come on, I have actual important things to get done today.”

Steve fell into step with Sharon as they exited the room, Maria and Tony striking up a conversation about Compound redesigns - something about Clint insisting that they have more balconies.

“So, hi.”

Steve flushed a little. “Yeah. Hi.”

“Long time no see.”

“Yeah. Sharon - ”

“It’s fine.” Sharon flashed him a small smile. “You’re busy.”

“No,” Steve said quickly. “That’s not -”

“So you’re not busy, you just don’t want to see me? Not even an excuse?”

Steve couldn’t help risking a look at Tony to see if he was listening in, but he seemed to be swept up in his balcony discussion with Maria. “Are we doing the teasing thing right now?”

“No. We’re not.”

“Right. Sorry. I meant to text, I really did I just-”

“It actually works out well. I usually have a very strict rule on dating colleagues, and this reminded me of the reason for it.”

_You still spend time with your friends, you take that girl on a date, and you don’t fuck up the Accords and get yourself arrested._

“Sharon. Wait.” 

They were outside now, in the middle of changing buildings to where the New S.H.I.E.L.D. holding cells were, far away from anyone else. Sharon turned to face him. She didn’t appear angry, or upset. Just disappointed. “I’m done waiting, ok?”

“And that’s fair,” Steve said quickly. “It’s just -”

“Not a good time. I’ve heard that one. A few times.” She started to walk away again.

“What about right after this?”

Sharon paused, eyes on Maria and Tony as they disappeared into the holding cell building. “I’m working. I can’t just drop everything when it suits you.”

“Right. Sorry. When -”

“I have my lunch break at one.”

“One,” Steve repeated. “Ok. Yes. One o’clock.”

“We’re not going for a run.”

“Of course not,” Steve started, before he saw Sharon’s lips twitch. “Back to teasing?”

“Oh look, he learns.” The last words were said with a smile, and Steve took that as invitation enough to walk side by side with her again as they entered the holding cells.

It looked more like a reception area than a prison, with pale blue walls, a front desk with sharp corners, and a seating area half-filled with uniformed police officers, being led by a familiar figure with strawberry blonde hair. Pepper spared them a quick wave and a hello, which Sharon returned with more ease than Steve did. Things around him and Pepper had oscillated between awkward and frosty since Siberia, and they hadn’t spent any time alone together.

Maria was thanking Pepper for showing the police officers in, and then gestured for them to follow her down the corridor. Steve made to follow, but Maria cut him off. “It’s not spacious back there.”

Steve looked beyond her down the corridor, at the individual rooms made of impenetrable stone and glass and metal bars, reminded suddenly of the Raft. He guessed here at least their prisoners had windows, and their stays weren’t supposed to be permanent. Still, he wasn't sure he was entirely comfortable with keeping prisoners in the building they were supposed to be calling home. “I think you could make space.”

Maria raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you saying I can’t handle myself?”

“Never, ma’am.”

“Good. Then stay here. We’ll be right back with Cohen.”

Steve let them go, still fidgeting uneasily. He glanced behind him to see that Pepper was now alone in the reception area, already fiddling with a tablet with a clear ‘Do not approach’ stance. Steve wandered a little further in, half-tempted to charge after Maria because that feeling that was nagging at him just wouldn’t leave, when a voice to his right made him jump.

“Well, look at our esteemed visitor. What, did we finally warrant a visit from one of you lot?”

Steve whirled around, coming face-to-face with a man with dirty-blond hair, a slanted nose and green eyes, the sight so unexpected that it took Steve a second to place him. “Cratos.”

“He even knows my name!” Cratos threw his hands in mock celebration, making his way to the front of his cell. Steve’s eyes roamed over the interior, noting that it looked comfortable enough, at least. “Did you hear that, sis? The great Captain America remembers little old us.”

“Shut up,” came a defeated voice from the next cell. Steve turned to see a woman with similar coloring, although a few years younger, curled up on her bed. “And don’t call me sis.”

Some of the bluster was knocked out of Cratos’s stance. “Hermes -”

“You _ditched_ me, asshole. You don’t get to call me your sister anymore.”

Steve ran his eyes over the cells, noticing now the odd gold glow each was giving off. Tony’s power-dampening technology. 

Cratos rounded back on Steve. “This is your fault. We wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you so-called _heroes.”_

Steve folded his arms as he turned to face Cratos fully. “You’re here because you kidnapped and hurt two teenagers.” He had been in the room when Cratos had choked Peter over the phone. He didn’t think he’d ever seen Tony look so terrified, and Steve hadn’t been that far behind. Steve couldn’t stand feeling helpless, especially when one of his team was in danger.

Cratos didn’t back down. “A cruel world means we got to fight cruel back.”

“I’m sure it won’t surprise you that I disagree with that statement.”

“Yeah,” Cratos sneered. “Mr High and Mighty, pretending to be one of us. Of course, when it’s some military poster boy they parade you to the public, but when it’s one of _us_ that came from _-”_

“Cratos!” Hermes hissed from the next cell. “Stop talking.”

Steve was saved from asking a follow-up question by footsteps coming down the hall, and saw Daniel Cohen being escorted by two police, his hands cuffed behind him. Regular cuffs, Steve noted. The guy wasn’t enhanced. Didn’t look dangerous in any way. 

And yet that feeling was persisting.

Steve waylaid Sharon as Maria and Tony followed the police into the reception area. “He really is just a guy?”

She cocked an eyebrow. “A _guy?”_

“You know, no powers, or -”

“None,” Sharon confirmed. “Just an Avengers protester who thought it would be a good idea to humiliate Tony Stark in front of a ton of news cameras. You guys really need to fix this public image problem.”

“Yeah, we know.” Not that that was in his hands, as many times as he had tried to offer. “So why did we keep him here for so long?”

“Because bureaucracy moves slow.”

Steve looked back at Cratos, who had slumped back against the wall of his cell, pointedly ignoring them as he glared into his knees. “Is that why these two are still here?”

“Police won’t take them. Raft won’t take them - not until Tony upgrades their power-dampening technology. Which I’m about eighty percent sure he’s agreed to do without actually agreeing to it, if you know what I mean.”

“Sounds like Tony. He likes to keep his technology close to his chest.” _Literally,_ Steve thought, thinking of the arc reactor.

“So they’re stuck with us for now. Lucky them.”

Cratos flipped them the finger.

“Lovely.” Sharon turned back to Steve. “So. I’ll see you for coffee at one?”

Steve was just about to agree when commotion erupted from the waiting room, followed by a scream.

Pepper.

He and Sharon exchanged one glance before they were both sprinting to the space, Sharon pulling her taser gun as they went. Steve got there first, bursting into the room just in time to see Tony lunge at Cohen, who had broken free of his cuffs and gone straight for the Stark Industries CEO. Tony’s gauntlet was only half-assembled but he took a swing anyway, only to catch a blow to the chest that sent him spinning face-first into the corner of the front desk. 

Steve registered a sickening crunch, but the police officers pulling their guns caught his attention first. Cohen was still side by side with Pepper, making her far too close for shooting to be safe, and the officers were blocking both Maria and Sharon’s shots.

“Don’t shoot!” Steve barrelled through both officers, throwing himself forward just as Cohen went to grab Pepper again, tackling him to the floor. “Stay down.”

The kid bucked and swore beneath him, but there was no way he was throwing Steve off. Steve turned to Pepper. “Are you ok?”

Pepper wasn’t even looking at him, scrambling to her feet to get to somewhere past Steve.“Tony!”

Steve whipped his head around, registering with a sick swoop of his stomach that Tony was lying on the ground, blood pooling around his head, still and unmoving.

Cohen twisted in Steve’s grip, eyes going wide when he saw what everyone was looking at. “I didn’t mean…” He writhed again, panic growing. “I didn’t mean to!”

Steve tugged him to his feet, bypassing the police officers to shove him into the more trained grip of Maria. “Hold him!”

He pushed his way over Tony. Pepper was already communicating with F.R.I.D.A.Y, coordinating a medical team, as Sharon whipped off her jacket to press to where Tony was bleeding. Now closer, Steve could see that Tony’s jaw was twisted at a grotesque angle from where it had smashed into the corner of the desk.

Steve looked from where Cohen was slumped in Maria’s grip, still looking pale, from Tony on the ground, and finally to Sharon.

Looked like coffee was going to have to wait a little longer. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would love to add some Cratos and Hermes fanart to this series, so if you take commissions or know anyone who does let me know! 
> 
> Next chapter: Pepper and Steve have a talk, a canon character returns to the Whumptoberverse, and Tony decides to voice his thoughts on Clint's dating choices.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Whumptoberverse fact: This was originally my idea for the prompt 'forced mutism', but then my writer's brain supplied something else for that that was so devishly fun that I moved this one back to 'paranoia/panic attacks' instead.

The Compound was all controlled chaos following the attack, with Tony being rushed off the medical bay, Sharon wrestling Cohen back to his cell, Pepper soothing things over with the NYPD, and Maria arranging an emergency meeting with the Committee to discuss new options for Cohen’s incarceration.

And Steve was left feeling completely useless.

It was hardly a new feeling. With Tony and Rhodey handling much of the Accords, Pepper the press, Clint Bucky’s transfer to the Compound, and the Accords getting steadily stricter about the kinds of missions New S.H.I.E.L.D. could assign to the Avengers, Steve often felt himself at a loss. So he made himself busy, he did what he could, but none of that work ever seemed really _important._

So it was that he found himself wandering down to the med bay a couple of days after the incident to check on Tony. 

F.R.I.D.A.Y. had assured him it was just a fractured jaw, and nothing some time and a boost from Cho’s cradle wouldn’t fix, but Steve found his feet carrying him there anyway, only to find Pepper Potts on the phone in the waiting room.

She sent him a professional smile as she moved to a corner of the room to give herself more privacy, although Steve’s sharp ears still caught the words ‘Project Cassandra’ and ‘launch’ a couple of times.

Steve had read over the notes for SI’s latest project a few times - at least the parts he could understand, and he did what research he could on the parts he didn’t. It seemed just as Tony had said; a greener replacement for 5G doubling as a puff piece for the press to get SI, and by association the Avengers, some sorely needed positive public opinion points.

He had read the notes thoroughly a few more times anyway.

Steve was about to approach the reception desk to see if Tony was taking visitors when he was distracted by movement from the corridor leading to the hospital rooms. “Rhodey?”

Rhodey jumped a little, having not noticed Steve until he spoke. The man looked exhausted - Rhodey _always_ looked exhausted these days, Steve acknowledged. It hadn’t really registered, Steve saw him so little outside of official business, but under the bright lights of the waiting area he could see just how dark the shadows under the colonel’s eyes had grown.

“Steve.” Rhodey shifted his weight slightly, barely hiding a wince as he did so. “Are you here to see Tony?”

“I thought I’d check-in.”

Something flickered across Rhodey’s face. “That’s not a good idea right now.”

Steve had figured as much, but it still hurt anyway. “He ok?”

“They had to wire his jaw shut,” Rhodey replied, as though that was all the explanation required. “Thanks for coming down though.”

_That’s my job,_ Steve almost replied, then stopped himself. He had no idea what his job was anymore. He hadn’t been exaggerating when he told Rhodey that the title of Captain had become all but ornamental. “Are _you_ ok?”

Rhodey shifted his weight again. The movement was slow, deliberate. “New braces design,” he offered. “It’s taking some getting used to. Like breaking in a new pair of shoes.”

Steve doubted that was the whole truth, but he also didn’t want to keep Rhodey standing any longer than he had to. Besides, if Rhodey didn’t want to tell him, he couldn’t force him to, and Steve was sure he was almost dead last on the list of people Rhodey would come to for comfort anyway. “Ok,” Steve relented. “Let me know if you need anything. That offer still stands.”

That expression was back on Rhodey’s face, and Steve couldn’t help but feel a stab of annoyance when he realized it was _pity_. “Good to know. How’s that Grand Canyon trip coming?”

Steve looked around the med bay waiting room he had spent far too much time in over the past few months. “I don’t think now is the best time for a road trip.”

“No, it isn’t.” Rhodey clapped him on the arm as he headed for the door. “But you know there never is, right?”

“Guess not,” Steve muttered, throwing the hallway with the med bay rooms one more look before heading away from the reception area, only to find himself locking eyes with Pepper as she stowed her phone in her purse. He gave her a nod, not willing to force conversation on her if she didn’t want it. Besides, that itch that he usually took out on the punching bags in the gym had started to rear its head.

“Steve. You have a moment?”

He paused. “Of course.”

Pepper gestured for them both to sit, which Steve did cautiously, unsure of where this conversation was headed.

“Are you ok?” Steve asked finally. “Cohen didn’t hurt you?”

Pepper rubbed at her arm where a hand-shaped bruise had started to form. “Believe me, I’ve had worse. Thank you.”

Steve was taken aback. “For what?”

“You took him down.”

Steve shrugged. “Just doing my job, ma’am.”

Pepper eyed him. “You know I don’t buy the whole forties American soldier bit, right?”

Steve allowed himself a laugh as he looked down at his hands, interlocking them together. “Right. Should have known better.”

“Does it work?”

“When I’m following orders, yes.” He couldn’t keep the note of bitterness out of his voice.

“Steve.”

He forced himself to meet her eye. He owed her that much.

“I know you always do what you think is right,” Pepper said, very carefully, as though she’d been preparing these words for a while. “And I know individuals mean a great deal to you, and that’s important in a world where everything can get so wrapped in the big picture. I’m not around a lot, but when I am I can see you’re trying, even though Tony isn’t making that easy for you, and I know what you chose to sacrifice for him in Siberia.”

“It wasn’t a hard choice to make.”

Pepper’s eyes narrowed a little, absorbing that before she added, “You also beat up the most important person in my life, after lying to him about one of the most tragic incidents in his life, and then you left him on his own.”

Steve felt himself flush. “I know,” he said quickly. “And I’m so sorry. I never meant it to get that far - _any_ of it.”

“You broke his arc reactor.”

Steve stumbled a little over that one - the arc reactor had only been powering the suit after all, not Tony’s heart so it shouldn’t have hurt - but instead of clarifying he repeated, “I’m really sorry, Pepper. If I could go back and change it, I would.”

“Which parts?”

_All of it,_ Steve almost said, then caught himself, because they both knew that wasn’t true. “I still wouldn’t have signed the Accords,” he admitted. “Even with all the Amendments. I can’t see eye-to-eye with Tony on them, and I don’t think I ever will. And I couldn’t have left Bucky to the authorities either, whether Zemo was involved or not. But I would have told Tony about his parents. I…” He considered, not wanting to word this wrong. “I would have fought harder to stay allies,” he stated. “Or fought _less_ might be a better way to say that. Fought less, talked more.”

The tension Pepper had carried around her since Steve and Tony had returned from Siberia seemed to melt away, the cool CEO persona dropped. “Ok,” she said simply. “Thank you for saying that.”

Steve shifted in his seat. “Thank you back, by the way. For shouldering so much of the press work. I know you’re busy enough as it is.”

“So are you.”

Steve shrugged. “I try to be.”

Pepper assessed that. “Have you ever tried not being busy?”

“I don’t really know what else I’d do with myself.” He looked just in time to catch Pepper’s expression in a mirror image to how Rhodey’s had looked a few minutes earlier, and couldn’t stop the wave of annoyance and resentment that rose in him. He liked Rhodey, he liked Pepper, but he didn’t need anyone’s pity, _ever._ “Being here and trying to make this better is the best thing I can do right now.” Even as he said it, he couldn’t help the small voice in the back of his head that muttered, _Is it, though?_

Because what _was_ he doing for the team, really? He wasn’t helping out in the press, the Gargan investigation was now being helmed entirely by New S.H.I.E.L.D., and he didn’t really feel like he was doing anything in the Accords meetings except for show up.

“Is that the best thing for you, though?” Pepper offered quietly.

“Is the best for you?” Steve retorted, a little sharper than he meant to. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude -”

“Steve, no one is ever going to mistake you for being rude.” Pepper tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, and Steve caught the faint scents of vanilla and peach. “I wouldn’t be lying if I said the workload doesn’t get to be a lot sometimes, but I didn’t take this job as a favor to Tony, and he didn’t give it to me because I was his girlfriend or as a thoughtless gift.” She sat up a little straighter. “I earned it, and I worked for it, and I _want_ it. I want to be at Tony’s side as we turn SI away from weapons - to make the world a better place instead of a worse one. I consider myself so lucky that I get to be in a position to do that, one that not a lot of people - and even fewer women - get to be. It’s important, impactful work.” She paused before she added quietly, “But at the end of the day I still want someone to come home to, and I’m willing to make time for that.”

Steve felt the uncomfortable sensation knot around his stomach before he even registered that it was _loss._ The feeling was far from unfamiliar - it had been ever-present even before he woke up from the ice - but he didn’t know why Pepper’s words had triggered it now. He glanced from where Pepper was sitting to up the med bay corridor, remembering why he was here in the first place - why Pepper was here. “I’m keeping you from seeing Tony.”

Pepper shook her head. “I’ve dropped in a couple of times already, I was just giving him and Rhodey and some space. They’re not in the greatest place right now, but Rhodey’s refusing to let Tony ride this one out on his own, no matter how much he’s trying to insist on it. Neither of us are.”

“So…” Steve recalled the conversation he’d had with Tony while they’d been searching for Peter, how Tony had referred to him and Pepper as ‘strictly business’. He didn’t think people with strictly business relationships waited at each other’s hospital beds. “Are you two…?” _Fonduing,_ his mind supplied in a moment of ridiculous recollection.

Pepper nodded. “Yes, we had that talk.”

“And how was that?”

“Hard,” Pepper supplied. “And long. But it needed to be had.”

Steve exhaled, the feeling of loss increasing. He was glad, that Pepper and Tony had finally worked things out, especially if Rhodey and Tony were going through a hard patch after the whole Project Cassandra incident, and it wasn’t that he didn’t want them to be together because he definitely did, but he also felt…

He didn’t know what he was feeling.

His phone suddenly felt like a six-ton weight in his pocket. Sharon had been pulled into ongoing New S.H.I.E.L.D. business deciding where to house Cohen, so he was off the hook for setting up a new date for the next few days, but it was going to come up again eventually. And he wasn’t really busy, he _knew_ that, but he also knew that just sitting down for coffee instead of being in the gym or trying to do something useful filled him with a sick feeling of anxiety that he couldn’t shake.

Then again, if Tony and Pepper - two of the hardest working people he’d ever met - could shoulder their respective duties and make enough compromises to have things work between them, surely he could too. He liked Sharon, a _lot._ Not in the same way as Peggy but maybe, over time, on an equal footing, which for a long time he hadn’t been sure would be possible with anyone.

He had been busy - properly busy - in the earlier days of working with Fury and S.H.I.E.L.D., but even so none of the women Natasha had offered him a date with had appealed. He was sure they were nice and even attractive, probably, but that kind of thing had never registered with him as it had for others. He had always smiled politely when Bucky or any of the Howlies had shown him pictures of women back home or pin-up girls, but he just never saw the appeal. After Bucky’s first aside with a soldier in the 107th, Steve had found himself throwing side looks at men, just in case, but no attraction had ever sparked there either.

And then there had been Peggy. Peggy, who had been brave and intelligent, who had really seen him _._ Not some scrawny kid from Brooklyn or Captain America but _him._ That had been reciprocal, she’d confessed to him one night. It had been just the two of them left in one of the war rooms. They had meant to be finalizing an ambush for later that week, but somehow that had turned into them talking in a quiet corner by the fire, and for once Steve had been ok to leave the planning for the morning and just _be_ with another person.

They had talked about everything, which Steve knew couldn’t have been true, but that had been what it had felt like. Peggy had confided that she had been drawn to Steve because he’d seen her too - as a person first, before an agent or as a woman in man's role. And Steve had begun to think that maybe, _maybe,_ this is what all the films and the books and the men with sweethearts back home had been talking about. Maybe this was what it was meant to feel like.

Sharon was different. While he and Peggy had felt like two meteors who had found an orbit around each other, Sharon felt like a stable place to land. She wouldn’t lie to him, wouldn’t flatter him, would call him out and _challenge_ him in a way in a way he craved, in a way so very few people would since he had picked up the shield.

In a way the person currently lying in a hospital bed down the hall always had.

“Can I ask you a question?”

Pepper’s voice jerked Steve back into the present, and he shook himself out of his train of thought. “You can ask.”

Pepper considered him for a second before she said, “You came down here to see Tony. Why?”

“Because he’s on my team.”

“Is that the only reason?”

Steve pressed his hands together. “Just because of what happened in Siberia doesn’t mean I don’t care.”

Pepper gave him a half-smile. “I know better than anyone that Tony is very difficult to work with,” she said quietly. “But you know he’s that way because he’s trying to sabotage relationships before they can get him hurt, right? Especially after Obadiah Stane. You do know that story, right?”

“I do.”

“I guess what I’m trying to ask is - do you want Iron Man on your team, or do you want Tony?”

Steve took a second to pull apart what Pepper meant. Did he want firepower, resources and money on his team, or the man behind them? “Tony,” Steve confirmed. “I do want to fix what happened between us.” _Even though I have no idea how to start._

Pepper surprised him then by laying a hand on his knee, the manicured nails giving him a comforting squeeze. “He trusted you. And you lied to him. That’s not an easy thing to fix for anyone, but especially after the number of people who Tony has let in only for them to use him and leave him.”

The sense of loss tightened. “So you’re saying…”

“I’m saying that a talk - a _real_ one - might be good for everyone.” She stood, giving him permission to do the same. “Look after yourself, ok?”

“You too.”

Pepper gave him a final smile, then moved in the direction of the med bay rooms, leaving Steve on his own.

* * *

_You still spend time with your friends, you take that girl on a date, and you don’t fuck up the Accords and get yourself arrested._

As much as it made Steve want to punch through every boxing bag in the Compound’s gym, he thought he was doing pretty well with that last one. Cohen had been declared New S.H.I.E.L.D’s problem once again, with an investigation being conducted into why his threat level had been incorrect that was keeping Sharon busy enough for Steve to lay that duty to one side for now. Which left Bucky’s last request.

Steve mournfully turned away from the gym and headed for the showers. The conversation with Pepper had been playing on repeat in his head. There had been a lot to unpack, but she at least seemed to have been hinting that if Steve and Tony talked, _really_ talked, maybe there was a way around the gaping chasm that had taken place of their previous friendship.

However, it was a little hard to have a conversation with someone whose jaw had been wired shut. Which left Steve very few excuses to not spend time with the other members on the team.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.,” he asked as he stripped the wrappings off his hands. “Where are the team right now?”  


_“Boss is in his workshop.”_ Steve frowned at that - he was pretty sure Tony was meant to be _resting._ _“Agent Romanoff is receiving treatment in the med bay and is being accompanied by Dr Banner. Colonel Rhodes and Mr Parker are currently not in the Compound, but Agent Barton, Staff Sergeant Wilson, and Mr Lang are in the west common room.”_

Steve brightened a little at that last one. Scott was currently splitting his time between New York and California in order to spend time with his daughter while fulfilling the Accords’ ‘sixty percent of downtime spent at the Compound’ requirement, and Steve hadn’t seen him in a couple of weeks. Scott was easy to be around, even if some of the Captain America hero-worship still spilled through. And, Steve reflected, he really hadn’t been spending that much time with Sam outside of missions at all, which he should probably be paying more attention to.

He made his way toward the west common room, trying to ignore the fact that the route was bringing him past Tony’s workshop area. As soon as the wires came out, Steve resolved. He had been avoiding that talk for too long. That was partly because it had seemed that Tony needed time, but it had been months now and Pepper had seemed to be implying that, if they wanted things to move forward between them, Steve was going to have to be the one to push for it. He knew it wouldn’t make everything better all at once, but it would be a start. He could make things right with Tony, try things with Sharon, spend more time with the rest of the team outside of missions, and in turn that would fulfill Bucky’s requests and then - 

The need for that happy picture to become real slammed into Steve so hard that he didn’t even see the brunet teenager rounding the corner until he had almost knocked right into him, only the serum’s reflexes allowing him to dodge in time. “Peter? F.R.I.D.A.Y. said you weren’t here.”

“He’s not.”

The teenager looked up from the supplies he was hastily shoving back into a bag, and Steve clocked the larger build, the Tennessee accent. “Harley. Sorry about that.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Harley slung the bag over his shoulder with just enough nonchalance for it to be an act.

“What do you have there, son?”

Harley snorted. “I don’t have a great track record with adults calling me son, so maybe back off on that one.”

Steve glanced down to where Tony’s workshops were - where Harley himself had just come from. “Is that stuff from Tony’s workshop?”

Harley shifted, uncomfortable. “So? He said it was fine.”

“If I go and ask him that, will he agree?”

Harley fixed him with a glare that quickly dissipated into worry. “Don’t. I do have permission, technically, just…” He shuffled his feet. “Peter asked me to get some stuff, ok? For his suit. Because he hates coming here now.”

Steve softened at the sight of the dejected teenager. “And you? How do you feel about being back here?”

Harley shuffled his feet. “Not my favorite, to be honest. But I’m eighteen in a couple of months, so it’s fine. Can get my own place.”

Steve glanced down the corridor, as though Tony was going to appear at any moment. He wasn’t sure why the thought made him so anxious. “You know you’re welcome to stay here past then, right? We’re not going to kick you out.”

“You mean kick me out _again?”_ The resentment was back, and Steve couldn’t entirely fault him for it. Steve had been part of the decision after all to send Harley to Clint’s farmhouse after the kidnapping. It wasn’t one he regretted, not if meant keeping the kid out of danger, but it didn’t take much to see that carrying out said decision had been handled poorly. “Doesn’t matter anyway,” Harley finished. “I’m staying at Peter’s place. Just came by to pick up this stuff for him.” He gestured with the bag.

“That’s nice of Peter.” It was all Steve could think of to say. “And you’re ok there?”

“Guess it’s fine until the next place.”

Steve felt a wave of sympathy for the kid. He’d come to the Compound after being kicked out of his home, only to be sent away to live with Clint’s family, and then had that new home ripped away after the farmhouse had been compromised. “Anything we can do to make it easier?”

Harley folded his arms across the bag. “I said it’s fine.”

“Son- Harley, I live and work with two master spies. I know when someone is lying.”

“You wouldn’t get it.”

“Try me.”

Harley pulled the bag full of equipment even tighter to his chest, as though afraid Steve was going to rip it away. “You ever had a secret that you couldn’t tell someone, because it would hurt someone else if you did?”

Steve suddenly felt hyperaware of Tony’s presence just down the hall from them. “I can certainly say that I’ve been there. I can also say how much those secrets can hurt if you hold on to them for too long.”

It might have been Harley’s shoulders hunching in, or the way he dipped his head, but it struck Steve how young the kid in front of him really was. “It’s just…” Harley took a deep breath, then seemed to come to a decision. “It’s just lying to Peter about where I’ve been is really hard.”

Steve relaxed a little - from Harley’s demeanor he’d been expecting something worse. “You mean the farmhouse?”

Harley nodded. “I know it doesn’t sound like a big deal but I really liked it there, and I got to do all kinds of things I never got to in Tennessee, and Laura is so nice, Cooper and Lila were shy at first but once we got to know each other they were so excited to have someone closer to their own age around who they could actually talk to about what their dad does and…” Harley took a deep breath, cutting off the flow of words with a sudden hitch. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Steve considered Harley’s words. “This isn’t just about not telling Peter, is it?

For a second Harley’s eyes widened in panic, but he calmed when Steve didn’t press him further. “I guess just…Lila reminded me a lot of my sister. I miss her, a lot.”

Steve tried to pretend he wasn’t taken aback. He hadn’t even known Harley _had_ a younger sister. “She’s back in Tennessee?”

“Yeah,” Harley muttered, and Steve decided to conveniently straighten out his shirt to give Harley time to wipe his eyes. “We haven’t talked in, um, in a while.”

“I’m sure Tony could arrange to bring her out to New York.”

“And stay where?” Harley retorted, some of the defensiveness returning. “May can barely put me up as it is, and you’ve made it clear she’s not welcome here -”

“Not safe here,” Steve clarified.

“Safe enough for the Barton children, apparently.”

Steve didn’t miss the resentment in the statement. “We brought them here under the guise of witness protection,” he explained patiently. “No one knows their association with Clint. But apparently people are aware of your association with Tony.”

“Apparently,” Harley muttered, then quickly added, “It’s fine, really.” He hefted the bag over his shoulder. “I should get this back to Peter.”

“What’s your sister’s name?”

Harley paused. “Rachel,” he said finally.

“You know,” Steve said gently. “If you really want to tell Peter, I’m sure you could talk to Clint about it. The rest of the team knows already.”

“Right.” Harley leveled him with a look. “Ask the guy whose safe place just got exposed to the enemy side if I can tell _more_ people about it. Good one.”

This was usually the point where Steve would call Harley out for rudeness, but the teenager’s eyes were suspiciously red and he did have a point, so instead Steve said, “Clint said he really liked having you there, by the way. Laura too. Said you fit right in.”

Harley flushed, covering it up with annoyance. “Jesus. You’re all so… _nice.”_

He sounded so bitter about it that Steve laughed, even as a small voice provided, _Not to each other._ “What were you expecting?”

“I don’t know. Rich, entitled assholes, maybe? Would have made a lot of things easier.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

Harley adjusted the bag. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I needed to get back down there. Happy’s waiting to give me a lift. I’m surprised he hasn’t come in to drag me out already, he’s not exactly patient. But, um.” His eyes were on the ground when he said, “Thanks for listening.”

“Sorry I couldn’t help more.”

“It helped,” Harley muttered, then he hurried away before Steve got the chance to say anything else, and Steve made his way up to the common room.

Steve paused outside the door, the same wave of anxiety that came with the idea of sitting down to coffee with Sharon flooding through him.

_Come on_ , he pushed himself. _They’re your friends, Bucky said to spend time with them._ Then, after a moment, _And I_ want _to spend time with them._

He pushed open the door to the sounds of familiar voices, and the anxiety eased a little.

Scott, Sam, and Clint were all clustered around a tablet screen, and Steve could just make out the electronic voice of Cassie Lang from emanating from the device. All three of them looked up, as Steve entered the room, as Steve realized he had no idea what to say. He usually joined groups like this with a purpose, for a mission or, in the earlier days, a planned activity like a dinner or movie night. He hardly ever just dropped in to say hi.

Scott rescued him. “Hey, peanut - you want to hello to Captain America?”

_“Um…”_ Steve heard Cassie deliberate for a bit before she decided, half-heartedly, _“Yeah, I suppose.”_

That got laughs from everyone as Steve made his way around to join the others facing the screen, giving Cassie a wave. “Hi, Cassie. How’s school going?”

_“That question’s boring.”_

Sam smirked at Scott. “Your nine-year-old daughter is chiller about talking to Captain America than you are, Tic Tac.”

“Yeah,” Scott smiled back at Cassie, taking it in stride. “She’s pretty cool like that.”

The conversation went on for another few minutes before Cassie’s mom announced she had to get her to soccer practice, and the others left Scott to exchange a few words with his ex-wife and her husband as the conversation turned to logistics about when Scott would be able to visit next.

“Hey.” Sam moved around so he was next to Steve. He seemed to be waiting for something. When Steve didn’t speak, he prompted, “Please don’t tell me someone _else_ on this team has been kidnapped.”

“What?” Steve blinked. “No, I’m just…saying hi.”

“Oh. Right.” Sam relaxed. “Well, hi.”

“Hi.”

Steve turned his head to the whirl of the coffee machine as Clint prepared two cups, coming over to hand one to Sam. “Cap? You want one?”

Steve almost turned him down before realizing that having something to do with his hands would be great right now. “Why not.”

Clint shrugged as he turned to pour another cup, Steve watching him carefully as he did so. It was bordering on a week now since Clint’s kidnapping, and while the archer still looking pale and tired, Steve guessed he could put that down to suddenly having to care for three kids on top of Avenging duties.

“You doing ok?” Steve asked as Clint handed him the coffee.

There was just a hint of a beat too long before Clint answered, so short that Steve probably would have missed it if he hadn't known Clint as long as he had. “Yep. Just fine.”

Steve was about to press further when he heard Scott say final goodbyes, hanging up and approaching all of them, and Clint used the opportunity of pouring Scott a cup of coffee to end the conversation.

“No thanks,” Scott said as Clint held it out. “Caffeine makes jittery.”

Clint shrugged, finishing off his own coffee before starting on the one he’d made for Scott.

Sam shook his head. “How anyone does this job without caffeine is beyond me.” Clint raised his cup in a salute behind him.

“What about him?” Scott gestured to Steve. “Because your metabolism doesn’t do any of the fun stuff, right?”

“Can’t even get drunk,” Steve replied mechanically, having answered that question far too many times.

“Cap doesn’t count,” Sam complained. “Who needs caffeine when you’re…” Sam gestured up and down at Steve.

Steve shrugged, taking a sip. “Still like the taste.”

He didn’t, actually, but that was beside the point, although he almost spilled it as Sam asked. “So. How’s Sharon?”

Steve went still as he realized all three pairs of eyes were now on him. “Um…good. Busy.”

“Uh-huh.” Sam gave him a knowing smile. “Not too busy for you though, right?”

_The other way around, apparently._ “We’re going for coffee.”

Sam’s smile grew more genuine. “Seriously though, I’m happy for you, man. I’m rooting for you two.”

“Only so you’ll stop asking him to go running with you at 5 am,” Clint supplied.

“Yeah, I don’t think Sharon’s too keen on that either,” Steve admitted.

“No one is keen on that,” Sam said, gesturing to Steve. “Only people who need like two hours of sleep are keen on that.”

“Five,” Steve supplied, prompting Sam to look him up and down.

“That’s right, five. And you’re _getting_ five, right?”

Steve changed the subject by turning to Scott. “How long are you staying this time?”

Scott grimaced. “I’m still working that out. Sixty percent of downtime here, right, so the government can keep an eye on us? But have you seen the guidelines for how they define _‘downtime’?_ Sorry,” he said quickly, shooting an apologetic look to Steve. “I know you’ve been working really hard on the Amendments, it’s just…they’re making me do so much _math.”_

“It’s actually Tony who’s been doing most of that work,” Steve admitted, feeling an unease in the room at the words. “Bringing it to the Committee, I mean. Not making decisions.” He decided to change the subject. “Sorry it’s keeping away from your daughter so much.”

“Thanks,” Scott smiled at him. “At least I know she’s in good hands.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, Maggie and Jim are great.”

“That’s really good. That you get on with them, I mean.”

Scott shrugged. “It didn’t start that way with, you know…”

“Prison,” Sam supplied. “He’s talking about prison.”

“Thanks,” Scott shot back at him. “But in the end we all realized we had the same goal. Doesn’t really matter what’s between us as long as Cassie is happy, you know? That’s the important thing.”

“Yeah.” Steve considered. “Still. Can’t be easy.”

“There’s a lot of talking,” Scott admitted. “We try to do that in person, when we can. Having access to Tony Stark’s private jet helps.” He shifted, suddenly uncomfortable. “Even though that's...it's still...you know.”

“I’m sure Tony doesn’t mind,” Steve supplied.

“I’m sure Tony doesn’t notice,” Sam corrected. “Probably has like ten more stashed in his garage.” He glanced around at the room he was living in. “I get it though. It’s definitely -”

Sam broke off as the door to the common room opened again, and there appeared the man they had all just been talking about.

Tony froze in the doorway, looking apprehensively over all four of them. Several wires were visual around his jaw, keeping it in place as it healed. He looked around, as though deciding whether to back away again, before seeming to come to a decision and marching inside, signing _Workshop machine no coffee._

“We just made a pot,” Steve offered, hurriedly moving out of Tony’s way to the machine.

“We did, and now it’s gone,” Clint continued, pouring out the last of it into a clean mug. “So tell me, Stark. What is this worth to you?”

Tony rolled his eyes, not joining in on the game as he made his way over to the machine, pushing Clint aside to check the cupboard below the sink, making a noise of annoyance when there were no beans to be found.

“I think we used up the bag,” Scott said, his tone apologetic. “I could run out and buy more?”

Tony waved him off, turning around to leave again.

“Giving up so soon?” Clint pressed, darting around so he was blocking Tony’s way with a look of mock innocence.

Tony’s shoulders went rigid, glaring at Clint, bringing his fingers up to sign _Move._  


“Seriously. Tell me what you’ll give me for it.”

Noting the tension in Tony’s posture, Steve made to step in, before remembering Sharon’s words.

_Teasing shows comfort. Familiarity. That you’re willing to let your guard down around friends._

Realizing what Clint was trying to do, Steve backed off, only to seriously regret that decision ten seconds later.

“I gotta say, I could get used to this,” Clint continued, still keeping the cup tauntingly out of Tony’s reach. “Silent Tony Stark. Maybe the rest of us can finally get a word in edgeways.”

_And maybe you could fuck off and go back to banging my parents’ murderer._

The silent words were deafening, and it didn’t take more than a glance around the room to see that everyone had caught them. Real hurt flashed across Clint’s face as Tony pushed him to one side, not caring that the coffee slopped down onto both of their shirts as he did so, and stormed out of the door.

Clint recovered first, still looking shaken. “I didn’t mean to -”

“I know,” Steve said quickly. He looked after where Tony had vanished, made a split-second decision, and followed.

It wasn’t a hard guess as to where Tony would be headed. Rhodey had told him - Tony’s safe space. His workshop.

The sounds of loud music confirmed it as Steve approached. The door was still ajar, as though Tony hadn’t had time to close it before… “Tony?”

Steve winced as he pushed into the lab, eardrums ringing. “F.R.I.D.A.Y.? Do you think you could -” He broke off when he saw the figure hunched over in the corner of the lab, almost bent double and struggling to breathe.

Steve was by Tony’s side in a moment, taken back five years to huddling under layers of rubble threatening to crush both of them, trying to help Tony through what he had thought was an asthma attack. 

“Ok, Tony, listen to me. It’s just a panic attack, alright? I know it’s scary, but we’re going to breathe together, ok?” He could do this. He helped Tony while holding up the remains of a demolished bank, while they were both in pitch blackness and Tony was locked into an immovable suit with the air full of dust. If it worked then, it would work now. Steve reached for Tony’s hand. Tony reached back.

And shoved Steve hard in the chest.

It didn’t hurt, not in any physical sense of the word, but the touch was like a branding iron scorching _Not Wanted_ across Steve’s skin. Steve barely had a moment to recover before there were hands on his shoulders, pulling him out of the way as a new figure took up residence by Tony’s side.

“Get out,” Rhodey told him. The words were urgent, if not angry. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Steve didn’t need telling twice, scrambling to his feet and dashing to the door, cheeks burning.

“I don’t care if you’re not talking to me,” he heard Rhodey say, even over the pounding music. “I’m not leaving you.”

That was as far as Steve heard before Rhodey instructed F.R.I.D.A.Y. to close the workshop door with Steve on the other side, shutting him out with a cold finality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look it was almost a happy chapter. Next chapter: Steve and Tony finally discuss the events of [What Makes A Captain](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26439220/chapters/64415188)...
> 
> For added angst for those who have read Budapest: So while Clint is aware that none of that was real, he also internalized a lot the perceived 'bonding' that took place during the simulations, including that whole hostage scene with Tony, so deep down he's registered that they're close to their old dynamic. Tony does not agree. Clint has now realized this.

**Author's Note:**

> Come scream at me on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/jinxquickfoot), especially if you also write fanfic or do fanart! Share your work with me!
> 
> If you're liking the work I'm putting out on Ao3 and want to support me as a creator elsewhere, it would mean the world to me if you were to check out/subscribe to my writing podcast 'Kill the Cat', which is available [here](https://linktr.ee/KilltheCatPodcast). We currently have two Marvel-related episodes out: one on [Infinity War](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Ypaen3yM5Q&t=26s&ab_channel=KilltheCatPodcast) and one on [Jessica Jones](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mx8prgGgccc&t=26s&ab_channel=KilltheCatPodcast).
> 
> And hey. I wouldn't hate to be the person you get trapped under a building with.


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